It takes a few moments, to understand exactly what it is Horatio's speaking of (what he's afraid of. It takes a few moments, but when he realizes, his expression morphs rather obviously from understanding to briefly haunted to gently frustrated.

(They'll speak of all that later, perhaps. It occurs to him they'll have to tell William of it all; of Ferrol and of life of the Indy. Of Simpson-- and there's another flicker of his expression, just briefly, gaze shifting briefly towards the other lieutenant-- and the ache of the Justinian.

Later. They can exorcize the old ghosts, later-- together, perhaps, if they're lucky.

If Horatio isn't such a fool about it all.)

He's glad for the way William moves closer and rests a hand against Horatio. He's distracted, briefly, by how appealing and right the image looks.

But when he's finally gathered all his thoughts back together again, Archie's shifting in his own chair and reaching out to brush his fingers lightly, familiarly, against the back of Horatio's hand.

"Three pairs of eyes looking, 'ratio," he finally says, "Surely it'll be easier not to miss things with that many, rather than-- just one?"