It's not him this time; the racing pulse and mounting anxiety. He feels lost, not sure where any of it is coming from and unable to muddle through the drift for the source. Newton's words contradict everything he can feel, and he doesn't know the first thing about where to begin addressing or assuaging any of it.

And frankly, he doesn't have the patience for it right now. He's exhausted and still has no idea whether or not they'll be safe tomorrow. The echoes of Newton's distress bleeding over tug at his heart and he pulls them tighter together.

"I just want this to last, Newton," he murmurs in turn; quieter, tired. "Think of it as an equation for maximizing that potential. Only three to nine more months."

And then assuming nothing catastrophic happened in that time, they'd be engaged.