Jefferson blinks in surprise. Sweet? He's trying to remember if anyone's ever called him that before. If they had, it must have been ages ago, because he really can't figure out why else it's so jarring to hear. But he takes to the kindness like somebody who's been starved of it for a long time, leaning forward in his seat so that he can reach across the table to lay one of his hands over hers. It's a light, tentative touch, because he'd much rather see her laughing and vibrant again.

His own gloominess is more than enough to deal with, okay?

"I don't think that's a word people usually use to describe me." He offers a wry smile. "But I'll take it."