His hand stays, mostly because he feels like if he moves now he'll shatter and collapse into himself. Wretched homesickness fills his heart. He drowns in a despair he has only felt once before: the days immediately following the removal of Zodiark's touch on his soul. He's a piece of history that has been utterly forgotten and is destined to sink beneath the waves into the gloom. Even in these robes and this mask, he feels out of place here. Instead of blending in, now he stands out.

He says nothing to her in response because there is nothing left to say. But silent tears roll down his cheeks and fall into his lap.