Mm... [He recalls their chat about harsh winters, and the comparative places they spent their seasons.]

I'm glad that you haven't grown tired of it then - or at least not in a way that you can't still enjoy a good memory.

[But after that, he'll reach out, gently tapping his fingers against - or through, maybe - the side of the little light orb. He's quiet as the little snippet of feelings and sights and touch roll over him, no boisterous laughter to be had. But once the vision fades, there's a little look of surprise on his face, which shifts into a softer expression.]

Ah... [One hand rises, briefly touching the center of his own chest.] ...What a warm feeling.