There's no resistance in Myr; he's still--still, two years out of the Circle--not used to the idea he might touch others any time he wishes, but it doesn't make him less hungry for contact. Being dragged out of the memory of what might have been in Minrathous bothers him not at all, and he follows Finel silently to the bench. Joins the other elf, after a moment, nearly knee to knee with him for the seat's a little short.

"How did you get to know him?" Despite it all, despite the miserable weather and the spirits and his own grief far too close to the surface, there's a certain gleam in Myr's eye; Finel, you've found a romantic.