Thomas doesn't even try to put up a fight at the idea of getting him something that will match them. He's rather touched, even if he wants to insist that they don't need to. He hugs both of them close and presses a kiss to Greta's hair.

Then he laughs, a bit wet and a bit breathless. "Look at us," he murmurs. "We're down on the floor and any moment now the dogs are going to try to come in. Come on... we can at least reconvene on the couch."

Somewhere that they won't get all knocked over. Somewhere he can keep holding them.