He finds himself choking up for a whole new reason, leaning out of the wind and into those beautiful words. Ones without blame or loss, but only expressing what and who they are to each other; what they'll always be. He mirrors Peter with his own fleeting smile, trying to keep his heart from exploding. That would be a difficult one to regenerate, and he wonders, would his new heart feel the same?

"I wished it too," he sounds almost hoarse, run ragged by his paradisal dream gone awry. "Underground." He had found a true companion in Peter, before any of the physical. Only an empath could find sympathy for a cowardly psychopath. He concludes, a new heart would still be his heart, and Peter had unknowingly touched every fibre of his being.

He allows himself a few minutes so he won't start blubbering all over again, even going so far as pulling a deep breath into his chest. Adam finds himself switching his plea, if only to stay here a few moments longer. Watching Peter so earnestly give his testimonial, even after all he'd been through made everything worth it somehow. It wasn't often he'd been given the opportunity in his long life to make another person happy, and when it arose he often would fail. But for all his selfishness, and perhaps it wasn't so far removed from the urge, he couldn't help but want it--for another person to find his presence so warm, so comforting as to actually be moved just by his existence.

"I don't mind so much, being stuck with you," he says after a beat, adding it retroactively as if it hadn't been unspoken enough.