[Oh Prior's family never touched each other much. Well, his father wasn't there and mother stiffened and paled like starched sheets if anybody dared crumple her twinset. God knows how they wound up with him, but the craving for touch was instilled early by this abject lack of it.

Prior's not using his shoulder to cry on at all. But he doesn't let go quickly. He shakes his head, a motion felt more than seen, somewhere against the curve of Nash's throat.]

Mm-no. You wouldn't rust - too much heart for that.

[Okay. Okay. A breath and he stiffens his own spine, pulling away with a slowness that speaks both of reluctance and the ache inherent in moving. He resets the cane to a position good enough to steady him.]

I don't know what to do. I've known people - too many people - who've died, but I've never seen people die that way before. And Byerly - and every room in this place has someone who went through something terrible and there's nothing-

[Breathe, Prior.]

I can't do nothing, after this.