"You help."

In such an easy, general sense. Being able to squirm now and get an arm around her shoulders--to squeeze her hand and look out over the snow with her warmth next to him--made things settle that much more into place.

"Cookies help." And his head ducks, forehead bumping to hers. "It's just-- growin' pains, Ri. Promise. Workin' to feel like..."

But there's not a good word for it. That's where this pensiveness comes from.