[It definitely isn't a remnant of his human experiences that prompts Matt to step forward, to loosen his grip on the lead and smooth his soft, water-warmed hands over the shivers rippling through Shiro's still-dirtied coat. He was a suburban child, he never even saw a horse, except on TV. Whatever's guiding him right now isn't something he had before -- before everything.

It's that longing, that insatiable drive to comfort, to be of use, to be warm and soft and close, to give an outlet to all that nervous, pent-up energy. He's never felt more serene in his life, even though he knows logically having those big hooves coming down so close to him is dangerous. He reaches up, grabs Shiro's hands, tugs him down so they're somewhat close to face-to-face.]

I don't. Feel obligated. I want to. [A placid flick of his ears, a scrunched-nose smile.] I wanted to before, but because it's you...I want to more.

Does that make sense?