It's habit by now, to seek out those places; each touch a little reaffirmation that this person who is so dear to him is alive, real...because he'll outlive all of them. Better to know for sure now, to hold them now, while he can.

Levi listens quietly, leaning in closer almost without really realizing it. His touch lingers at the hollow of Finnick's throat, going a little still at the thought of being paralyzed by fog. It would easily be a death sentence, no matter what, and a fucking terrifying one at that. His stomach clenches a little.

But gray eyes move upward again at those last words. A horrendous way to die for anyone, but especially for someone you love.

For a long moment, he just holds a quiet sorrow with Finnick, that shared ache of loss; familiar, but no less edged. Afterward, Levi slowly leans upward, going up onto his toes and drawing the taller man in a little closer just to gently touch their foreheads together.

"Hopefully he's being stuffed full of his own shit this fucking minute."