Their thoughts are filled with marking days on the calendar until that was too much, and watching the clock until it got dark, and so Barnaby's hand makes them jump. But it does its job, and they've been fond of touch, and they scoot towards him without reservation.

Frisk shakes their head, still staring off at the clouds. "No, 's not. But it happened. And it's not your fault when people do that, either."