He returns the nod, as equably, and makes the shift in equal silence. Again there's that sensation of a lock turning smoothly; of unexpected solid ground. It's as if they're on a narrow ledge, hand in hand, each steadying the other, lest their combined weight tip them both into freefall.
>_> reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated
Or he's more tired than he thought.
(He doesn't, in any case, take his hand.)