Even having heard the Fool say similar things before, even seeing it in his actions if not his words, hearing it is-- difficult is not the right word to describe how Devin feels. It is as if he is being pulled in many directions at once. Denial and confusion are heralds of Devin's old life, the part of him that doesn't understand how he could mean so very much and be given so very much; but the desire to be worthy of the Fool's affection, and the warmth of being able to bask in what they have together, keeps growing stronger, like a plant pushing through the cracks in his soul.

Devin can't find the words. All he can think to do, really, is to secure the knot at his wrist. Eventually, he'll need to find a better place to put it (wearing it out in public probably isn't going to happen), but for now-- this is where the gift belongs.

"I wish I were-- better at this," Devin does murmur, tilting his head down against the Fool's. "And-- thank you."