[ When Patroclus breaks from Achilles and turns, it's only to walk in the direction he's pointed out. With hand still clasped firmly in Achilles' like they were boys, he has not a single care occupying his mind over what another might think seeing them, two fully-grown men walking together in this way. His heart is again not only quenched but welling, beating furious as a war-drum.

He had not bade Achilles promise to stay the last time they met. He had not thought that through, having been preoccupied with the relief of the gods' magnanimity for both of their sins. Achilles, suffering from hubris, suffering from anger, the very undoing that caused the war in the first place, and Patroclus, suffering from apathy, so long did he wait until it was too late to aid his friends, so long did he stay listening to lyre-strumming. How generous the gods, how benevolent the fates.

And now he has Achilles' word, he can't help but to feel a little cheerful. ]

How luxurious it would be to have tamed a hotspring, even here the likes of which are undoubtedly rare. But gladly too would I bathe in chilly waters that no other was possible, if in doing so meant we would have need to keep the other warm.

[ He did wonder why they built the town away from the forest. He does wonder still, if it is safe to venture this way. Achilles has always embraced danger, after all. ]