Those strange throaty purrs start up the instant he's embraced, every part of him rejoicing in the familiar comfort of his beloveds. Sure, it's only been half a day, but that's half a day too long. He's done enough missing them for two lifetimes now. He'll write the poetry of their reunion another day. Right now, he needs his hands less for the pen and more to be on them, fingers curled into the respective fabrics of their clothes.

It's strange not being able to hear both their heartbeats in tandem, which is a peculiar thing that immediately upsets him on a micro-level. Their breathing, their hearts, just the tiniest shift in how they move. It's all so familiar, and now it is gone from his unnatural hearing. It just makes him cling a little tighter, press a little closer to hear all those sounds again.

"I missed you," he says, voice a touch softened by his worry, but also by the wine warming him. "Making me wait, how cruel."