In Mildmay's posture, there's shock; in his expression, awe. And through all of that, quite plainly, love. He looks down quickly, and shifts his back, trying to reclaim a posture of neutrality.

There's really nothing to say to that.

He looks up almost shy, aware, distantly, that there's still vulnerability, open and waiting should Felix choose to pounce on it. He speaks, and finds himself mush-mouthed, though for once it's with gratitude rather than reticence. "And I would'a missed you, if'n I'd been here first."