A genuine smile from Reyson borders on radiant, even if there is a similar bittersweet loneliness on the edge of it.

"It's kind of you to offer, I'd like that."

His first instinct, when he needs a pen, is to pull out a loose feather on the spot - but that's not quite right, is it. No inkwell. It's fine, between them, one of them will have an actual pen.