[His smile vanishes. Instantly he knows he's done something wrong, very wrong, and any amusement he was feeling about the situation is overwhelmed by guilt. He drops both cigarettes on the porch and lurches out of his seat, feeling wobbly and wrong.]
[With someone else, someone he knew better, he'd reach out and touch them - a hand on the shoulder, maybe - but he doesn't trust that to be the right thing, either. All of a sudden he doesn't trust himself at all. So he hovers, close but hopefully not close enough to be stifling, and bites his lip.]
You're here. [His voice is low, earnest.] You're not anywhere else. You're here.
action.
[With someone else, someone he knew better, he'd reach out and touch them - a hand on the shoulder, maybe - but he doesn't trust that to be the right thing, either. All of a sudden he doesn't trust himself at all. So he hovers, close but hopefully not close enough to be stifling, and bites his lip.]
You're here. [His voice is low, earnest.] You're not anywhere else. You're here.