Co leans in to press her head to Peter’s slender arm, closes her eyes, then shifts her head to open her beak and set it delicately around his digit without applying any real pressure—a gesture of affection like holding hands.

Peter, you are accepted. Unfortunately, this now means Co will try to prod you repeatedly with her beak, looking for fur, hair, or feathers to preen. Because you preen your people to show you love them.

John…well, he can imagine. He’s been through his own brand of shit—different, but just as bad. Some you can fix, but some wounds never heal…

Help me help him, Serranai. he prays silently. And if you can hear us here, God—St. Jude—help us, too.

Reaching for another piece of meat off his plate, he tears it in half and sets them both down again.

“Pick one. I’ll eat the other. Only if you want to, but…I’m eating it, too, and I can’t have messed with the one you pick without messing with the whole thing.”

It’s a small thing, but if he can make a point…maybe he can try to help Mulcahy the way Chris helped him when he found out John was living off trail mix in his room. And doing this when he’s struggling, too…

Sometimes sharing problems and solutions together makes it a little easier.