Sam winced a little at the twitch and the flicker of whatever-it-was that went (there and gone too quick to really read) with it, but she didn't withdraw her hands any sooner than she otherwise would've; they were both ready for any assurance, it seemed, and the touch was one; Will was thin and wan but still solid flesh-and-blood-and-bone, and Sam was as gentle as she'd been when she'd seen to his skinned knee, so long ago.

“Thanks.” She stepped into the house as the boy sidled back, shutting the door behind herself. “And sure; I get it.”

Under other circumstances, Will would be scooped up, maybe slung over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carried to the couch and dropped onto it---like during Sam's first visit. Under these circumstances, he was drawn over by both shoulders, blanket and all, and just held.