"Of course." Darkleer gives a slight chuckle as Summoner starts to shift his position. How ever could he forget Summoner's multitude of friends? They'll never be in need of company so long as he can commune with other creatures... With the silence enveloping the two of them, Darkleer tries to keep himself calm. There's no denying the heaviness in the air. It's thick and miserable. It brings to mind too many dreadful memories of similar silences. As someone with the skillset he possesses, Darkleer isn't unused to the quiet. It's just this kind which makes him feel ill.

They don't have much longer, do they... Either they'll fight and fail, or they'll fight and succeed. The tides have been quietly granting them chances, but Darkleer still isn't sure if they truly have a chance. Still. He has something he was to fight for now. He won't let himself go quietly like he did so long ago. Regardless of how things end, he has to make the most of it. Before, on Alternia, he didn't realize how short a time he truly had before he was exiled. There was no time for him to say goodbye to his comrades, to his quadrants. There wasn't any time for anything. He won't make that mistake now.

So Darkleer treasures this moment with Summoner, tries to enjoy as much as he can this feeling of warmth and those fingers in his hair. Finally, however, he reaches up to brush his thumb against one of Summoner's cheeks. "What are you thinking about?"