Whatever grief they may have brought into each other's lives, both knowingly and unknowingly, the Fool feels secure enough in the knowledge that Fitz's love for him will never be in question. That grief is the price paid for love; the Fool would pay it again tenfold, if he must.

"Konryu does make a significant argument for living in the present, for those who can. From what I've seen, you're not lacking in kindness to offer others, however."

At that gesture, he looks to the arnica canister and promptly smiles a small, closed-mouth smile, then reaches for his teacup again. "A small kindness I hope you will make use of, should a Hound fall upon you again," he remarks almost pointedly from behind the rim before taking another sip, eyes glinting; he can't help a bit of needling. But sincerity softens the expression after a moment or two, and when the Fool lowers his cup again he appears not solemn, precisely, but there exists a candour in his gaze that is difficult to miss.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask you to take more care with yourself, in the future," he says quietly. The slight, pained twist to his smile--and the little skip of his heartbeat when the Fool looks into Devin's eyes--are indication enough of how much a 'yes, I will,' answer might mean to him, though he realistically does not expect one.