[ He wouldn't mind a certain level of delicate and a certain level of cold under normal circumstances. (Even if Caren veers a bit too close to 'cute' end on the cute-cool spectrum to be his type.) But here and now, he yearns for the sort of solid presence that he can clutch in his hands without worry of it shattering.

Not that he's being particularly careful with her. His grip at her wrist remains insistent. And even as he listens to her calm rebuke, Gen only fixes a dead-eyed stare on her for a long moment before offering a response at a hoarse, sarcastic deadpan: ]

Woof.

[ In other words -- she can call him a dog all she wants. It would annoy him were they elsewhere, but he really can't bring himself to give a shit about it right now. All that matters is that she settles down beside him in easy grabbing range, and thus provides an easy target for him to wrap his arms around and pull close. There's no hesitation in the way he buries his face against her shoulder, but it's an oddly chaste and almost childlike gesture -- there's nothing lascivious in the way he simply clings to her as an anchor to reality. ]

... what's the point in talking all fancy like that right now. [ His words are mumbled right against her skin, muzzy and low. ] We're both feeling like shit. Just talk like a normal person.