It's through the blankets, but he still idly strokes his fingers against Poe'd shoulders and upper arms, the action now far more habit than conscious choice. Finn was starting to wonder exactly what this conversation meant. He'd been pretty firm on where Poe fit in his life, as unnamed as it had been. But maybe it was being here, in this place, for Poe. Mother, father, wife, husband, son. Friend. All nice neat little titles, a classification system Finn had never been part of.

Until now, apparently. Suddenly he wasn't sure where he was supposed to fit, either.

"Well. It means...something. Doesn't it?"