"Thank you, darling," Jedao murmurs, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. "He said he had a thing about hands - more than pragmatics, I think. It'd make sense if they were a target before. Or just anxieties about it."

He takes the tea set and heads back to the bed, sitting next to the rough shape of Quentin under the blankets instead of quite rejoining him. He sits cross-legged with the warm solidly of one leg pressed casually against Quentin's shoulder, and he starts balancing the tea set so it calibrates. "And it might be good just for white noise - he's been startled a few times just by ordinary noises in the hallway. Not quite startled awake, but he needs proper rest."