Largo’s hand is warmer than expected, softer; the cuts on their palms are forgotten and for a moment Van is overcome with the need to hold the hand much more tenderly.
Such an intimate thought is unsettling to him, but he wishes he could say it aloud.
It would be nice to say a lot of things aloud.
“Will you follow me on my path?”
Palms of blood pressed together.
“This is our pact; we will end the Score. There is no going back now.”
Largo’s smile is as warm and as soft as his hands.
“This is our journey.”