[The shared moment aches so deeply in his chest that Olivine almost says something. It's so hard to just go back to what's correct, what's "ideal" when he wants for nothing more than to invade his space, to take up his thoughts.

How many times has he imagined Lorenz's fingers, moving away from the chaste brush of a hand and upward, to close the space and bring him—]

I think that is a good idea. It should alleviate some of their worries, at least until we can return again.

[He works on gathering their things then, letting Lorenz handle the horses, though he reaches to gently pat his own once they're both set and everything is packed.]

Everything is ready to go, my lord. Simply give the word, and we'll be off.

[He offers it easily, quietly climbing onto his horse. They ought to get going, in any case.]