Funny the way things become familiar--and necessary. Jude's rough fingers ground him as much as the gesture itself, something real, something to trust as the same worries about possible forgetting threaten him.

Resolutely, he leans in a bit closer. Not like the abortive attempt at a comforting hug earlier, that's already been ruined, but moving his arm against Jude's, putting himself more resolutely in Jude's orbit. A reminder that this is supposed to be his space now. He gets to have this, for whatever strange and possibly fleeting reason.

"If... if it were an accident, or if he were sick--people get that way sometimes, I did, one of those things we get that, um, you know, happens here... If that were it, I'd be home with him." He could take care of a friend in trouble. He had nothing to do for a guarded stranger who didn't seem to have any need of him. "He was, um, he was himself, totally... He was lucid. He just didn't know anything about, about, about where we are, or the house, kriff, the dog..."