He holds his breath as Van flinches, keeps holding it until he feels his cousin lean in. Only then can he relax enough to wrap his other arm around him in a mute offer of comfort, of safety. Maybe there's something else he could say, some other words he could offer--

--but better to let Van speak first, if at all. Better to hold on in silence, making good on his own promise. Whatever else happens, Van's not alone, so long as Myr's around.

It starts to rain again outside, in the dark, pattering down against the fabric of the tent.