Raju watches, gaze fixed as Francis pulls his head back, knowing that he can't follow. His hand lowers itself slowly, as if it doesn't know where to go. He needs to pull back too, sit up straight, maybe lean back. He tries, and it doesn't happen. Or maybe he isn't trying very hard.

His hand settles tentatively near the edges of Francis' beard, longer than it was, and as untrimmed as ever. He rubs the very tips of it between fingers which still need to be feeling something. "Your beard is terrible now, you know," he murmurs, voice low and, in the moments before he manages to wrestle it into something approaching casual, very rough. "You look more like a hermit than ever."

Easier to keep touching and easier too, maybe, to focus on that. Not that he's ever minded the beard, but anything which doesn't make Raju need to kiss him when he looks at it is a relief.