"Thank you," he breathed out, sagging a little into the hug, hugging back.

The emotional whiplash was draining, actually. He could keep going, would keep going, but he wasn't firing on all cylinders, and it was taking a tall.

Hartley's presence, his support, helped more than he had words to say. Or even think. And the gratitude was real.

After a few moments, Dick gently pulled back enough to look up into the blue eyes. Into the warmth and comfort there. And he smiled.

"So long as I don't start tripping over my feet and make a fool out of myself, I think I'll survive."