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Summary
The Warden nodded, stared at him with an intensity that didn’t want to be there. He raised his hands but aborted the motion almost as fast. He looked like he wanted to say something, do something, but didn’t know how to. Ponk smiled and leaned down, taking the other's hands and easing them to his masked-covered face. He sighed into the touch, pressed Sam's palms firmly to his cheeks, leaning his face into the hold. He held Sam's hands there, fingers splayed over the back of his hands and around his wrists.