This is a terribly reassuring way to end the day. The ache is a good ache. The hunger is a gnawing which will be properly soothed. The exhaustion is the sort which might lend itself to actual sleep for more than a few hours of the night.

And the silence is a good silence. There's no demand in it or discomfort lingering about the edges. (The exhaustion does help with that. It's oddly equalizing, after all--and goes a long way toward turning down the chattering noise of self-doubt.)

His breath comes long and slow as he studies his own row, shoulders briefly lifting before he forces them straight. There's a palpable pause before he glances at the ground between them, then back up at the young woman beside him. She wouldn't mind if he sat, surely?