The slow sinking to the floor is appreciated, though less dramatic than the outright collapse Crozier’s body would have probably done if not supported. He feels those light kisses to his face, his forehead, though he doesn’t immediately raise his head when Rama demands it.

“You can’t suddenly start ordering me around,” he mumbles from his vantage point of his face pressed against his neck, the rush of good feelings making him giddy. “You’re still wearing the jacket.”