For a brief moment, Oswald sits up straight again, a kind of momentary injection of energy from the suggestion that something about the moment should alter before he sort of wilts again. The greatest enemy of all: exhaustion.

And this is the thing about Edward Nygma--intelligent, skillful, brilliant, Ed with all his dark little corners and shadowy secrets, is also just kind. He always had more capacity for it than Oswald could ever really muster, a true attentiveness to the needs of the bodies of others even if he didn't always line up the emotions exactly right. It was one of the things that brought the two of them together and he it is again not just in his awareness that Oswald needs to rest, but also in taking Oswald's jittery mistrust and trying to work with it, not push it away or against it.

It's probably because he's tired that Oswald feels a little wet at the eyes, just tired and bleary, that's all, as he reaches up quickly to press the balls of his palms against his eyesockets and rub.

"That... very well may be the next stop on our itinerary. Unplanned as it may be."

Can an itinerary even be unplanned? Does it unable to exist if it isn't pre-made? Does that even make sense? The slight crease to Oswald's brow and the way he considers this is probably a strong indicator of where he's at right now.