It is a tentative thing, the idle brushing of her fingertips across Benevenuta's forehead. Something she could explain away as required for the healing- something that needn't mean anything. The bare press of skin to skin to check for temperature, for illness, for aches other than the physical before it's gone. "There is more of him that is available to carry it. That helps a great deal."

Somehow she's less irate and more fondly exasperated with both of them. Somehow.