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[Usually Nico doesn't like to be touched, but as he stares out the door to the grass below, he reaches for Lev's hand. After he'd seen but not actually felt the touch to his shoulder, it's a relief when Lev's smooth, hard fingers cause actual sensation against his palm—it's also sorta comforting that it makes him pretty certain that Lev can't actually tell how cold Nico's hands are by nature, but that's a crappy thing to find good right now, considering the circumstances.

Porcelain dust dribbles out of his t-shirt sleeve, but his arm doesn't flop off and that's probably the best Nico can hope for right now.]

Okay. Alright. [He takes a breath, prays dad, please help us with all the fervor of a kid who thinks he's about to eat it and doesn't have time to reconsider praying to the Lord of the Dead for a longer life... and jumps.]