The words weigh heavy in his heart. They're what he was skirting around, almost word for word: It's broken, and I miss it. As much as he'll miss Crow, when he's gone for good. Almost as much as he'll one day miss Raven, which doesn't even bear thinking about. As much as he misses....

But he shuts that thought off fast. And, because he's slowly learned what a comfort touch can be, and because he wants to offer something as great as what Falcon has offered, he carefully offers his hand, across the distance between them. Idiot, he chides himself. He'll laugh in your face. He probably has as little use for touch as he does for eating.

He does it anyway.