Night is falling, and McDonald is tidying up the sick bay, with a slow, quiet weariness. The movement of his hands is soothing, and Harry finds his own hands busying themselves--to help, yes, but also to share the burden, to keep out the cold somehow. McDonald meets Harry's eyes, and his smile lights up the room and the winter night--it finds a home within his heart.
A helping hand (The Terror, Goodsir+McDonald).