Work Text:
It's during nights like these – hunched and huddled under rags to trap warmth between them (too precious to waste), cracked knuckles curled around stiff fingers (mostly warm and always protective) – when breath curls misty against one another's cheeks, made visible by the decline of temperature, and not even Ken's whistling snore can soothe the oppressive silence in her head.
They don't let on if they're concerned, so she doesn't either (as not to be a burden), but asks them to teach her new phrases in Italian, ones that could reach out in his mothertongue: