Prior pulls a face. He's not quite sliding back into the swing of things, instead dithering with righting Fitzjames' clothing that might have been set astray in the fray.

"Stop trying to cheer me up," he chastises, but for once Prior makes it clear and obvious that he's not bothered so much as hoping not to descend directly into an all-encompassing sadness. "Instead, distract me." He needs it, by god. And there are few people he trusts enough to allow taking his hand in this manner.

"Indulge me."