For once, there’s no immediate tension, no flinching away, though he is acutely aware of the contact, hyper focused on the sensation even as slight as it is. Better that, though, than getting caught up in his head. It’s grounding, gives him an out, and maybe, maybe just this once it’s alright.

Breathe. It takes a conscious effort, but he manages to loosen his grip. He wets his lips, voice failing for a moment, but eventually it comes. “Told you you’d make it a half hour.”

Deflect. It’s easier.