Dain laughs, and finds it very difficult to stop. Tedious, Tuo says. Not dangerous. Not hard. Tedious. Like lessons without consequence or carrying more home from the markets than you intended. Part of him feels amazed they never crossed each other's paths in Fairport, despite logic and the size of the city dictating that of course they didn't, it would really have been rather remarkable if they had. Much better to meet here, where there's no one around apart from someone a little way down the street walking as though they've had too much to drink. Fewer witnesses to make Dain's life a little harder, fewer loose ends and difficult questions to answer.

At this, Dain remembers what he's wearing beneath his coat and scarf, and he resists the temptation to make sure it's perfectly hidden. Much harder to resist is the thread of guilt snaking its way through his thoughts.

He understands Tuo, perfectly well. It's just... oddly hard to reply, like Dain's tongue doesn't quite remember the shape of the language. He simply nods, tears overflowing, utterly unable to stop smiling even if he wanted to. Surely he can allow himself this. Surely he can set aside his caution just long enough for a simple, joyful conversation in a language others can't understand.