Insufficient, yes, but the Fool smiles wistfully to hear the words anyway. When has it ever been simple for them to qualify their feelings for each other? He tips his chin down some so that he can rest his nose in Fitz's curls, cradling the back of his head in a gloved hand. His eyes slip closed and for a time, those are the words he leaves heavy in the air between them.

"Very dear to me," Fitz had said.

The Fool sighs and gives in to some long held impulse to kiss the crown of Fitz's head. "I will miss you so," he confesses softly, "when you are gone."