[ he doesn't lack for conviction, or most days, confidence, but even then—he can't help but close his eyes a moment, letting her words land. even if it is a very old grief, even if he keeps his heart bolstered and is no longer an inconsolable child about it, of course it's—nice? it's... nice to hear that he might be taking strides to honor her memory. she can feel it in his feelings: that aged mourning, but also gratitude that sits atop it, brighter and warmer and more fixed in the present. ]

...You have a way with words from the heart, princess. [ said more like a nickname than status. he smiles, sincere and a little worn, like a comfy old sweater. he laughs when she kisses his hand, feeling like she might be the dashing prince here. ]

We're just taking turns licking each others wounds, aren't we? [ ... ] I'm sorry you lost your prince. [ she lost the potential of someone to love, a perfect life, and he imagines she is grieving after that, too. ] Just as I'm sorry that all of us lost Mipha. It isn't very fair, sometimes.

[ his mood is lighter now though. sometimes life is awful, and sometimes you find a very excellent person to share your burdens and grievances and smiles with. ]