The look he gives her is so soft that it's maybe even a little ridiculous, but there's no one here to see it but them, so he doesn't particularly care. He is soft for her, moreso than he's even aware he's expressing, but any reluctance to simply state his feelings is entirely for her sake rather than his own-- he would wither away in silence before he'd allow her to think for one moment that he was anything less than sincere in all attentions for her, including those of a dear friend.

"Perhaps then we both can count ourselves lucky," he says with the same smile, "And doubly so, that such luck can be found in the midst of hardships." He also doesn't remove his hand from hers, though he does finally take another sip of his drink with the other.

"And," he adds, with a bit of a sheepish smile, "since I believe I brought you here to talk about how to avoid having rumors tear you to pieces, I think that easily is one of the first lessons: to know both who your allies are and where your strength lies. And your luck, as well."

It is difficult, to stop his thumb from tracing over her wrist like this, but he weathers it in the name of the conversation.