Lancelot gives himself a little shake, and looks up at her. He wants to pull her close and kiss her; he wants her to soothe the flickering unrest he feels, without knowing why he feels it; he wants her to detail what she means by fight everyone.

What he settles on is shifting to wrap both arms around her, again, and ease her still closer. He kisses her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. (He doesn't bother trying to find words for any of this.)