Bearclaw Valley and heaven knows,

He was right, though. Milan knew his voice, his call. If she had wanted to answer, perhaps she would have by now. Frederick blinked, then, holding back any sort of emotion that could paint his face, but something, deep, longing, swam behind distant eyes. I suppose you're right, soft-spoken, now.

She did not want to see him. That was what he had picked up from this interaction: that perhaps he had messed it all up. Perhaps there was no more to whatever they could have had. A soft nod was all he gave. But he wanted to keep trying, to make up for his mistake. If he gave up now, then that would mean it really was over, wouldn't it?

But he met the south-man's gaze: I do want to make that first step, he said. I'm trying to, I just... Frederick pulled away, shaking his head. Confused. Lost for words. Inexperienced. I don't know how. I have never had... a bond, like the one with Milan, before. A sense of trust, of companionship. Someone that he could love.

Frederick's eyes flitted back towards Cole's own once more. I have never had this kind of bond with anyone before. It is all very new to me. And he was trying his hardest to make it work, but was he failing? He did not know.

Has she spoken to you, though? Does she seem alright?