[Paul has noticed that people from other places don't quite seem to make promises the same way he does, sworn to or by a specific thing. Cultural relativity being what it is, he tries, and usually succeeds, in not holding that against them.

In Falco's case, Paul looks at their joined hands and thinks, sickly, that Falco is swearing on something. He keeps coming across these children willing to throw themselves into the hands of strangers at the slightest kindness, and Falco shows no signs of getting suddenly taller and stronger and more worldly (and no less vulnerable, even then- but that's a thought he shies from).

Paul would rather cut his hand off than misuse the trust being placed in it. The idea of it being possible still scares him. He leans in slightly, comfortingly, shieldingly.]

I've been having bad dreams about the future. [He isn't going to lie, but he will be gentle with the truth.] You've been in some of them. It's going to be all right. We're going to stop anything from happening while we're awake. I won't let anything happen to you. I swear on our friendship, I won't.

[Paul puts every note of reassurance he knows into his voice, blended with certainty and weight.]