[ Though it's not surprising, as if she had already known somewhere deep down, the answer hurts. Not just because Pietro doesn't remember but also because his last memory is one of pain and death instead of being here, with her. It makes her throat tighten even further, mirrored by the hand at his back curling more prominently around his coat. He doesn't need to worry about her not staying close; even if it weren't for the hand at her waist, Wanda would be right there, as if their closeness is keeping him tethered.

Or, more precisely, keeping her tethered.

Her gaze drifts up when he brushes the snow from her, having completely forgotten about it and the street they're standing in, the crowds milling about. Once she remembers it's like a sudden crash of noise around her, intruding on their reunion. The cold presses in as well, making the tears in her eyes freeze against her eyelashes.

Nodding in agreement, Wanda's gaze returns to Pietro's, the disappointment of his lost memories nothing in comparison to the comfort of having him back again. ] Yes. Of course. [ She reaches up to catch his hand, uncaring about any remaining snow that's gathered in her hair, and pulls it down between them, the other hand finally managing to release him. ]

I will tell you everything you want to know, but we should go somewhere warmer. I can barely feel my fingers. [ Fingers which squeeze his tightly, afraid to let go. ]