Fives leans heavily into Jedao, arms going around him as he kisses him back in much the same way. He doesn't have it in him right now to care about anything more than the comfort of not being alone anymore. He doesn't say anything, just trails obediently behind Jedao, face set in the kind of expression that reads to most people as stern, when it's really just exhausted and sad.

He stops at the edge of the bed, his right hand clenched around something, but he's snapped at least a little out of whatever space he's mostly retreated to in his head by Quentin's explanation, and his gaze snaps up, suddenly more alert and concerned. "By who?" he asks, voice hoarse. He wouldn't at all mind a reasonable excuse to do someone violence.