[ Winter does tense up a little when Nikolas starts to laugh. He can't quite help it. But a few seconds later he relaxes; he couldn't say precisely where the difference is, only that there is one, and he can hear it. His own lips quirk in the beginning of a smile, small and shy, not quite yet embarrassed.

All of this still feels so very dreamlike, but there's the strong grip of Nikolas's hands, and that helps to ground him somewhat. It's tight enough to hurt a little, but not out of any unkindness; that is entirely the fault of Winter's own frail build.

This is real! This is happening, and to him! Imagine that. ]

Then that's a relief for the both of us. I don't quite know how long it would take me to learn to change.

I'd rather -- if I may be that bold -- we learn how to be better at being happy.