[ Her cheek is soft and familiar; he's sinking, gravitating toward her as her hand covers his. This is Noire. His Noire. He can feel it in her weight and tremble. His sword clatters to the ground as he brings his other hand up to cradle her face, drinking in her touch and sound and sight. He'd imagined being able to see her again, but it's still so much to take in. An ache that sat low and constant before chokes up in him now, leaks into his voice. ]

I'm really here. And you... I love you, Noire. I love you. Every day... I've wanted to be able to say that to you again.