Hades was ever better able to express himself via his actions than his words. Hythlodaeus has long prided himself, not always all in privacy, that he could fluently understand him.

Over the long, long time on the moon, whenever he drifted somewhat closer to wakefulness, there were times when he agonized if he might not have been wrong. If he might not have taken what was not actually given to him, but instead assumed that it had been, and Hades did not correct him as it was too much bother.

But from the moment they reunited here on the train, such questions and doubts have dissipated. He knows Hades's longing to be a match of his own, even if, to his joy, he can see the entangling of Hades's aether with Pahja's also.

And, by the same token, he can hear the waver, the uncertainty, in his voice now. Instead of confusion or even frustration, it only makes Hythlodaeus feel more warmth.

"I will find ways to show it, too, I promise. Until then, words will have to suffice - I love you too, Hades." It's soft enough to ensure privacy, even in the cabin, but it is clear and loud enough that Hades cannot possibly miss it.

The words have been so close to the surface over the last days, and he has certainly implied them without hesitation, habitual learned reserve making way to storm-loosened tongue.

But this is different. It is a matter of saying it because it is true and he wants to say it, no external force making him do so.