Odd to smile as he feels those little kisses there and feel the wetness at the edges of his eyes at the same time, to know it's at the corners of Francis' too even if Francis' face isn't far enough away now to see. One hand cups the back of Francis' head gently while the other clutches at his arm, and Raju does smile, darting little kisses back wherever the movement of Francis' head allows it. And it's odd to do this, kiss like this only for the sake of it; this, too, he hasn't done in a long time. Longer than since he's had sex, surely. Things between them had been serious and solemn in those later years, when he'd been home long enough to be the husband she'd needed. Even with the crying, though, this is anything but.

Raju gives a satisfied sigh, hand moving from Francis' arm to his shoulder to his side, and then running itself down that very slowly, soaking in the shape of him. He doesn't say anything; everything important has already been said. He wants to feel.