His wounds are still raw; any eye contact, even from someone who cares for him, is bound to cause pain. The Fool is content to sit in silence for now and admire the stone under his fingers, and to slip one of his feet free from his shoes so that he can dip it into the warm water.

Eventually, Devin says, "I didn't expect you to come out so early," and receives a gentle scoff in reply. "And why not?" he asks with a touch of his usual whimsy in his tone, his smile wry. He gestures around them with one hand. (His sleeve rides up just enough to reveal a bit of bandage wrapped around his arm from a recent injury; he hadn't meant to conceal it from Devin so much as he's likely forgotten it's there.) "This is the best time to come here if one wishes not to be interrupted during meditation. Even I can be convinced to get up early for that."

He's still smiling lightly as he grows quiet, eyes at last turning to take in Devin's profile. The expression fades some. Gently, he asks, "Will you tell me what is on your mind?"