Firo wonders if he's reading that expression wrong, but it immediately makes the effort worth it. His own face doesn't brighten, but it softens as some of the tension leaves it.

He finally lets his gaze break away out of surprise when he glances down at the arms that are wrapping around him. While he doesn't yet move to return the gesture, he doesn't offer a peep of protest and simply stands there in place. Well. Perhaps he takes advantage of his position to bury his face in Roland's shirt; if he were bothering to think on it now, he'd be grateful that it's muffling him somewhat. There’s actually a small part of him that’s relieved, because this is rather clearly the opposite of the rejection he’d feared.

He sighs. “D-damn it, I didn’t mean for it to go like this.”

Not the embrace, but most everything before that. So much for playing it cool.