This crooked smile says that he's letting it go to his head at least a little. Surely that's preferable to the sharp uncertainty Wilhelm used to hold in front of him like a weapon, back during the dark months when so much space lay between them.

"I'm not planning on it."

Though, he thinks about it more than he cares to admit. It follows him with the persistence of a nightmare, the fear that somehow he'll get snatched up again, taken somewhere dark and obscure. The enchanted trinket in his pocket is a small reassurance he'll hold on tight to. He pats it again, pushes his hand through his hair.

"Hey, let me know if you ever want some help in the garden again."