Wilhelm leans into his touch the way plants stretch for the sun. A grin flickers on his lips, and he closes his eyes to soak in the feeling of Jesper's fingers stroking his hair. Though he hasn't seen a mirror yet, he's sure he looks terrible. But as always, Jesper persuades him to the contrary.

"I know," he murmurs, sagging forward to rest his head on Jesper's shoulder.

"Maybe later you can help me fix this." Without lifting his head, he gestures to his overgrown mop of hair. "The beard has to go too. I don't care how sexy you think it is."

If it can even be called a beard. It's more the rough draft of one. Then the warmth of humor leaves his voice, and the shadows come back. He sounds as small as he feels.

"Can you just...hold me for a little while?"

Pulling back from Jesper, he peels the quilt back in an invitation to join him, and he scoots to one side of the bed to make room. Under the covers, he has on a borrowed night shirt that rucks up his thighs as he shifts around. It simplifies the process of changing the bandages that wrap around his legs. He ducks his head to hide his wince as some of the sores underneath get aggravated by his movement.