[Sometimes you really do not need words to know what needs to be done. Silco looks like shit - pale skin and tired eyes making him appear almost like a ghost at the dining area's lighting. So different from his usual composed self that sought to have control of each moment. And Richard already knows why. He can't relate, of course, not his own estranged relationship with his own child and memory of his own father, that was colored with worship-like yearning and despair, but that didn't mean he couldn't sympathize.
Without removing his own cloak or the jacket underneath it, Richard walks up to his lover, wraps one arm around Silco's back while other one reaches up to the back of his neck - pulling the other man into his arms.]
no subject
Without removing his own cloak or the jacket underneath it, Richard walks up to his lover, wraps one arm around Silco's back while other one reaches up to the back of his neck - pulling the other man into his arms.]