She says those three little words and he feels his heart to a little flip-flop in his chest. Despite all the horror they've dealt with recently, despite the fact he's so goddamn tired and he feels so fucking broken right now- it gives him a fleeting moment of real happiness. He's been so used to assuming he never deserved that, from anyone. He sure doesn't love himself, so he never really expects anyone else to love him. But here Clem is, telling him that she does- and as it's her, he believes her.

"Well. Glad we got that straightened out."

The jokes really are not working, but if he tries hard enough maybe they'll start to sound natural again. It's an attempt to reboot his protective mask- the humour he clings to like a drowning man clings to driftwood. Something to keep him afloat through the storm. It's not there yet, but he's going to keep trying until he's at least slightly convincing again. He needs to front if he's going to walk out of here without crumbling to pieces the first time anyone asks him if he's okay.

His fingers curl a little at the back of her head, not constrictive- soothing. Trying to lessen the weight on her. If he could pick up even half of the bullshit she carried around with her to carry it for her he'd do it in a goddamn heartbeat.

"I can't promise we won't have to deal with this shit down the road- I mean... our world is really fucking awful," it's the worst. "But I want to keep this up for as long as we possibly can. Because you mean the world to me, too."

For someone who so vehemently denies accepting there can be a future, he sure sounds like he's hoping for one.