Hushed Willows but my love is like a dark cloud full of rain thats always right there up above you

a surprised laugh escapes him, a tiny, joyous sound, stolen unexpectedly. it hurts his chest in a way he does not yet mind, grateful she does not reproach him. he accepts her answers, pulling back to give her a slightly suspicious glance. none of those are feelings, seabreeze (though who is he to judge). but, oh, "that's smart," delight says, "appointing lily, i mean. she's... good." good can mean: stuck around through delight and queenie's gate-crashing, through her and alarian's various disputes, through delight's utter uselessness. it can also mean: she has been kind to him and that is really all he needs to know. he thinks having her in leadership is -- well, long overdue, frankly.

and speaking of long overdue things. "about that, though," the androgyne starts, his expression pinching anxiously. "i haven't been -- a leader for a while, have i?" in name but not in duty, between being bedbound, running off, and generally not doing much besides keeping alarian's bedside warm. oh, he could be kinder to himself to be sure, but delight had not even wanted to be in charge of the sanctuary to begin with. he'd just ... felt that he had to, for alarian's sake. 

so much for that now.

wincing, delight pulls back fully -- as much as he'd rather mumble into her neck she deserves to see his stupid rotten face when he talks. "i think maybe i'm better off stepping down, with your permission," he mumbles anyway, his gaze dropping to her feet as he braces for -- something. if not anger, disappointment, reluctant acceptance, a hidden flash of resentment he can worry over like a bone for weeks.