Quatre smiles back, and lays the back of his fingers to the right of Trowa's sternum, opening his hand as he strokes it over the fabric to Trowa's shoulder. He lets out a quiet breath, and settles.

His smile brightens, and squeezes Trowa's shoulder lightly, amiably; "I'll give them your regrets," he says, false-solemnly. "See you soon."

He tucks his hands back into his pockets, tilts his head at Trowa, and heads into the sunroom, closing the door behind him.