A hand touches Raju’s wrist, surprisingly-warm fingers cupping his hand and a thumb swiping across his palm. Crozier stands behind him, safe and sound on solid ground.

“Drop it,” he murmurs, voice soft but adamant. He sweeps his thumb again, heat from the fire making even frostbitten fingers start to burn. “You did so well. Let the tin fall into the snow now.”

Crozier had followed him across the ravine with bated breath, equal parts terrified and awed. It was exceedingly precarious at times, the holes in the bridge black windows into the long drop below, but never once did he feel unsteady on his feet. Now as he stands close he can see the tears on his eyelashes, proof of the hell he’s put himself through for them.

He squeezes his hand, thumb accidentally landing on his pulse but not moving an inch when he feels it fluttering against his skin.