I believe in never.

Tic continued his stare for a moment, blinking, head turning slowly towards the man. He looked up, eyes shifting over the offered hand, the orange eyes. He felt his own hands slip closer to his chest, and he shot a quick glance to the crowd of staring eyes. Turning his stare back to Larkin, he eyed him nervously, uncertain. The hand was waiting, and he knew he mustn't pause too long. He looked over the gloved hand once more, and nodded gently.

Pushing his feet against the floor, he raised a hand from his lap, and began to rise. His hand went out, slowly, hesitating. His fingers finally slipped around the outstretched palm, and were coiled by a set of longer fingers. He was lifted gently, as the chair scraped dully against the hard floor. All eyes were on him; he knew it, and he couldn't help but feel his cheeks burn.

Larkin looked down upon him, smiling subtly, his grip firm but soft. He cast his glance away for a moment, giving acknowledgement to the men who watched with interest, allowing them to leave. He cast his glance back to Tic, and he immediately felt a gentle tug. He followed the man with soft steps as he lead him out the dining hall.