Oh, how he wishes that he could believe those words - that he's worthy of things, that he has a kind soul. That he's not broken, fractured, incomplete - a feeling that's haunted him for decade after decade because he knows it's true. But he gathers his courage as much as he can, placing a hand on the back of the other's head gently and pressing his lips to Sunday's.

Instantly he feels warm, feels the gentle pressure, and tries to keep his breathing calm. His eyes close as he basks in the warmth, the feeling of care and tenderness and... and love. He holds it for a moment before his cheeks flush an even deeper pink and he presses his face into the crook of Sunday's neck again.

"I... I wish only for thy happiness. I wouldst like nothing more than to be worthy of thy grace. Thou art not Endless but I doth feel unworthy of thy attentions nonetheless." He takes a deep breath and tries to keep himself steady. He still feels... awkward about this - not that it's wrong but more that he's doing it improperly.

Even if there's no one to watch him he feels... shy. He's so used to having eyes on him that he's not sure what to do without them. "I doth not know how to walk this path. But... we art together. We canst help each other." And he knows that he will defend Sunday with his life. He needs to make sure that the other is safe.