[ He makes a soft noise, like an exhale but louder, leaning into the contact. He's started to be used to it, by now. The touching, that strange warmth that he doesn't deserve. ]

No more so than they usually do this time of year. Come summer, most of them will have moved on. I shouldn't need more than last time.

[ Then he raises his head to sniff at the air. Something seems wrong. ]