[ This time he catches the moment of distraction, the way Steinbeck’s gaze seems to linger too long on a shadow. The worry clinches his stomach tighter, but he decides not to ask of it--not to argue it.

He would scarcely be able to convince Steinbeck of anything when his breath is short for every word spent. Instead, he offers a wavering smile, indicating the space beside him. ]

You’d alleviate some of my worry if you’d sit down. C’mon, we can cuddle up or I can poke you with needles to make it more comfortable. No believers need you to stay all the way over there.