The tension in the air outside is only noticeable in how people on the streets bend their shoulders and rush about as though they dread being caught outside for some reason. The Fool frowns, but then he feels Devin’s hand on his and instinctively laces their fingers together, turns away from the window to take hold of the tea cup.

“Thank you,” he says absently and sips from the warm cup, leans his slighter frame into Devin’s side so that they touch and draw comfort from each other’s presence. For a moment he lets the silence rest between them uninterrupted.

“...Especially sleeping.”

He flinches, the movement creasing his brow. Of course, Devin’s nightmares... “The Dreaming can be cruel,” he says softly. Wordless, he brings Devin’s hand up to kiss his knuckles, then lowers it, holding his hand over his heart. “I suppose there is no way to guarantee that this won’t happen to us again in the future.”