Ozymandias allows Waver to pull away when he's ready, letting his arm drift down his back and then away. He passes no judgment on him for seeking out the warmth or for his discomfort with the decision that had to be made.

"I would not have said it if it weren't true," he says with a nod, his attention turning back to the injuries at his wrist. By now, the claw marks have stopped bleeding, leaving behind dried streaks on his arm. "It looks worse than it is, I assure you, but I will see to it that it is tended to."