[She grips his sleeve. It's the closest they can get to the embrace they want. He closes his eyes a moment, inclining his head her way in lieu of leaning against her. He wishes he could. He wants the solidity. He wants to rest and breathe and be safe.

But this is the apocalypse. Not even he gets that luxury all the time.

He bobs his head and obeys, drawing the goggles down over his eyes. He tugs his gaiter up more to meet it.]

Okay... good plan...

[More a plan than he has. His means of pushing survivors on usually involved leaving gifts. He suspects that wouldn't have panned out so well with these ones.]

I can do that... Jus' tell 'em... Got scratched... long ago... 's true... More or less...

[There's one more thing that nags at him.]

...Ryder...? Thank you... for coming back...