It comes through, a sweeping warmth that takes him by surprise, settles around his shoulders like a blanket. He blinks once, glancing back at York...

And does his best to return it. Maybe less warm, but a calm, contented stillness. It's peaceful. Grounded in a way he has not been in quite some time. Does that answer the unspoken question, he wonders?

"Not that it would accomplish much now."

Still, better not to risk violence. That's the surest way to lose cover in a hurry.