With his head against the clergyman's chest, Glacius may feel the breath that Carlisle takes, followed by a soft laugh, something that pushes its way out of him in spite of himself. He hesitates only a moment before he brings his hands around the alien's head in a gentle, tentative embrace, something made with all the care of a person who hasn't given -- or had -- one in a very long time.

"As am I," he admits, bringing his head down to rest his chin against his friend, closing his eyes, and simply reveling in that warmth in his chest. He feels needed, significant, wanted... and despite his injuries and the troubles that brought them to that moment, happy. Truly, undeniably happy. If only moments like that had more permanence, but as they don't, he clings to it while he can, repeating himself as though it'd make his words have more impact: "As am I."