The warmth of him, his company and the comfort it provides, pulls at him in ways he refuses to admit. Not even to himself. His gaze staying out the window, but he is not blind to how Cid's reflection haunts the glass, gazing at him in ways that a forlorn lover might. It makes Barnabas' jaw tighten, his throat following suit, yet he does not pull further away...though Cid's own hand seems to.

Instead, after a few rhythmic sounds of the trolley on the tracks, he turns to look at Cid. Though it is only a partial turn, something less directly facing, his gaze sidelong as he silently regards him. There are too many words that should be said between them, yet they can never pass his lips. Never truly form in his head, for they hurt enough as it is in his heart.

Perhaps he doesn't need them, with how his dark eyes trace over Cid's features, linger on his lips for a moment too long, before meeting the striking green of his eyes again.