Raju expects Francis to say something in defence of whoever it was — there was that woman he’s mentioned and, it sounds like, someone else — but Raju means it anyway, even knowing that. Francis wouldn’t be the man he is if he’d agreed. And insulting the strangers Francis cared about isn’t why Raju had said it, anyway.

Raju thinks maybe he really can feel the joy of this man he loves — the man he’s married and tied this life to — moving over him, warm and clear and pure. Francis’ lips press it into Raju’s cheek.

When Francis stands after that Raju rocks forward, still trying to lean into the feel of it before he has to catch himself. He looks up, not quite plaintive but not having expected the sudden shift away from him, either. “Don’t need blankets that much,” he mumbles, rubbing at the side of his face and trying to swallow the remains of the thick, acid feeling down his throat. “But you’d better get anything else you want while you’re at it. Once you’re back I’m not letting you up again.”