"Of course," Raju murmurs. He realises he's watching Francis — not what Francis wants now, judging by the way he's looking away from him. Distraction, poor or not, can only go so far, and the betrayal today was personal for Francis in a way it can't quite be for Raju, and Raju knows what it looks like when, close quarters or not, a friend needs to be alone.

Francis' shirt is still off; it hurts him to raise his arms, and seems cruel to insist he do it again now, when it's only the two of them. Raju lets his hand slip away from Francis' shoulder to add another blanket atop the first, the warm, soft fur that's become as familiar to Raju as any bed, and shakes them straight and aligned with each other, and sets them over Francis' shoulders. Raju tucks the blanket around him, finds his hand lingering over Francis' shoulder again, his arm. But if solitude is what Francis needs now then that's what he'll get and Raju lets his hand drift away, stepping back. He'll stay near the fire the way he always does but maybe with his back turned, take up a book or some quiet way to keep his hands moving. And then— "I'll be here when you wake," he says, quiet.

And he will be. The rest in this place might not stand up for this man in the way he needs, but it was ridiculous to count on anything like that anyway. Raju will do what needs to be done. He'll be here.