She doesn't pull away, and after a minute he lets his hand slip past her sleeve, twining their fingers like teenagers who haven't kissed yet. He might still be attempting an air of something casual, but there's a warmth to his smile that breaks though the facade.

"I remember the snow. Screwed up my plans for a day at the shore." He follows the path of her gaze, the white flowers, though everything is bleached in the half-darkness and they might have centres of bright yellow during the day.

Pausing, he bites down on the corner of his lip, looking at her and then down again. "Do you think I hate it here? I've done some... stupid things trying to get out."