He glances up again, greeted this time with the relaxed ease of anxious tension melting away from Mick's shoulders. He can't help it, can't stop the smile that rolls too easily over his lips.

"Well," He's on his feet and crossing the room, "aren't you going to say something?" He asks as he runs both hands up Mick's chest to rest on his shoulders. There's a distinct lack of his usual drawl. Nothing fake or over the top, just simple. Just him.