[ He cracks a smile then, a corner of his mouth pulling higher than the other in a way that's almost boyish on his fine features, though the fresh-faced, youthful look common among halflings is belied by the shadow of weariness beneath his eyes and, more obviously, the claw-swipe scarring over the right one. Not that he'd been dour before, but there is a marked difference between blithe neutrality and a touch of warmth in those keen green eyes, the unspoken offer inherent in a smile. It's an invitation to share in something together, to make a connection, brief as it may be. ]

Same idea here. That's really the only way to deal with it, right? None of this makes any fucking sense on a wide scale, so I've got to at least understand what's right in front of me.

[ That's the way to keep the spiraling at bay: do something about the problem he can see, even if he can't face the bigger issue causing it. That was why he left home, wasn't it? He had no plan, no idea if leaving would actually help him deal with his grief, but he knew that staying was unbearable. ]

I've been mobile for a while too, and the house thing strikes me as a little condescending. Like giving us a nice place is supposed to make up for forcing us to stay here. For me, and probably most people, the shutters aren't going to be enough.