Work Text:
Sean's language of love – of comforting, specifically – is gifts. Out of nowhere, unplanned, sudden; small surprises, whether it's a bunch of flowers, most likely illegally picked from someone’s garden, or a set of pastries, or his everything, fervent kisses and tears of any taste – but always at the right time.
It's as if it was him who could have premonitions too.
Marion's language of love – of comforting, specifically – is touch. Grounding, gentle, reliable; small gestures, whether it's a peck on the forehead in the morning, accompanied by a mug of tea hot to the skin, or a thumb drawing circles on the back, or his everything, the tightest embrace and deep kiss – and any given moment.
It's as if it was him who would be reckless enough to lose himself completely.