Best-case scenario, without her he probably would have ended up with a pretty ugly scar for his troubles. (As it was, it still might scar a bit...he'd have to think up a suitably heroic spin to put to the story before anyone asked where he got it.) But that was the least of it. He hummed and pulled her closer into his lap when she asked. Locke was better, these days, when it came to dealing with the deep-seated fear and guilt he had harbored after Rachel fell. It was unlikely, however, that he'd ever be able to forget it entirely. Not any time soon.

Celes didn't object, so he went ahead and buried his face tiredly against the crook of her neck as she made herself comfortable, holding her against him to share his warmth and the length of her cloak.

"Your hands are cold," he observed absently into her shoulder. As if she hadn't noticed.