He's cold, miserable, and hopeless already. There's not much left in him to object to Jude's hands, and he brought them on himself, clinging like this. Kriff, this wasn't the way he'd have wanted Jude to hold him properly the first time, panic kept at bay by exhausted resignation rather than strength of will.

But Jude's so careful with him. He always tries to reward these demonstrations with the trust they deserve, tries now to make himself like the way Jude's hand feels on his back. He can't, but he isn't going to scream. He even appreciates the cleverness of Jude's little cave. "Thank you," he mutters hollowly, sounding a bit ragged in a way his hours outside would probably explain just fine.