That might be a dream thing. You know it's all there, so you can see it. Or- the sky's there, but all the dust and clouds and such isn't. I don't really know.

[ He lets Alucard guide their joined hands, tracing over constellations. It's perfect, the kind of thing that they should do more often in reality, now he's finally started to recover. Alucard with all the constellations taught in books and theories about blazing storms of gas, Sypha with all the ones that mothers whisper to children and stories about wishes and sailors finding their way. Him with the secret names the his kind use to address the stars and the knowledge that they are seeing thousands of years into the past, that some of those stars are long dead.

It would be nice, even if what he can offer is a little sad. He can listen to the other two talking. He could listen to it for a lifetime and not grow bored. Slowly, he releases the arm that's around Alucard and moves it downwards. Enough to slip a hand under his shirt. He doesn't go further than that, just resting his hand there against his side, fingers stoking. ]