"I wish I were-- better at this. And-- thank you."

"Better at what?" Already the Fool is smiling wryly, though he closes his eyes and turns his face so that his forehead can rest against Devin's. His fingers slip around to stroke soothingly through the hair at the nape of his partner's neck. Gently, he says, "You are precisely what I need you to be."

This will, he suspects, be a point he will need to make again in the future; he does not mind.