Tea. Something simple that Devin has done a thousand, thousand times in his life. He can do that, even if letting the Fool out of arm's reach is-- difficult. Clinging forever seems like a good way to fill his schedule, but the rational part of him acknowledges that moving forwards will serve them both better at the end of the day. He almost follows his lover to this window, briefly rooted on the spot by a surge of helplessness. And then he breathes, lets it out slowly, and picks up his feet in the direction of the kitchen.

The apartment is not messy, per se. Dust on nearly everything, boxes of emptied bottles stacked by the door, a plate in the sink. Pillow and blanket on the couch, pantry nearly empty. A life put on hold, seen more clearly now that he has reason to move again. At least he's wearing clean, if rumpled, clothes. The city outside is not much changed, for much of the upheaval that has transpired in the Fool's absence happened elsewhere. Truthfully, Devin hasn't kept as close an eye on the situation as he usually would, even to distract himself. It might be possible to see tension in the busy streets - people aren't taking as much time to linger and window shop.

Soon, Devin has water in the kettle and turned on the stove; retrieves two mugs with faintly trembling hands, measures out leaves as he tells himself there is no need to rush. He can hear the Fool's calming heartbeat whenever Devin takes eyes off him. And when he does finally step away from the kitchen to rejoin his lover, Luthien trots at his heels, chirping happily about the turn of events. "Not at all," Devin says quietly, taking his lover's free hand, seeking out the reassurance of touch. His gaze drops, presumably to the inan rubbing up against their legs. "She made things-- a little easier. They both did. Especially sleeping."