Herbert is so doting with him - has been, since the beginning - that when his soft, shy, lonely little moods show through, it makes Alfred feel...seen. Confided in.

And he's getting used to the kisses, especially when they are as tender as this one.

His bright blue eyes are thoughtful as he regards what Herbert is saying...something sad milling around within him.

"It's hard, I think," he finally ventures, so softly, so quietly, "To see your own light. I think you need someone else to reflect it back to you. Because I...I think you don't realize how brilliant you are, either. Not really." He rests a hand on Herbert's knee, callused and worn from working to the bone.

"... We're a lot more alike than I thought we were when we met, I think."