Ilion wasn't sure what it was like to be so hurt by loss. Yes, he had mourned the passing of his mother, but it had ultimately been a release for them both. She was free from the shackles of slavery, and he was free to leave the oppression and judgment he'd lived with all his life.<br/><br/>He was taken aback when Urudal gave his condolences, but there was no time to react to it before huge arms grabbed him and began squeezing. It wasn't all unpleasant, just unexpected and peculiar. Again, this was the enemy, someone who wanted to turn him in for his long list of crimes. Ilion put his hands on those arms and patted them to encourage the man that all was well and he could stop doing that at any time. They were incredibly strong, those arms. And Urudal smelled nice, like leather and the wild nature around them. An unappreciated flare of desire sprung up and he cursed inaudibly.<br/><br/>"It's... okay," he hesitated. "It was a long time ago. To some species, I'm an old man now."