His mouth opened, and closed, but he could find no real reason to push Will off from marking him again--besides the obvious fact that the runes were merely staving off the inevitable, and that the inevitable, at least for the evening, was probably far closer than he wanted it to be. He didn't have to say anything to remind the other boy of that--and he didn't want to, either. Sometimes it was nicer to pretend that he could be a normal teenager; as normal as Shadowhunters were, anyway, and the sting of the stele against his skin was nothing after the flood of warm energy it sent, swimming through his veins. With his head less heavy than before, Jem lifted it up from where it had been dangerously close to slumping on Will's shoulder. They'd touched in all kinds of ways, mostly in combat, but even his affections for Will were not always met with soft feathers but bristles, at rare times, and he didn't want to push it. He was too comfortable in the spot he occupied, however large or small, within the other boy's thoughts to risk being shrugged off.

"The view is nice," Jem agreed, casting his eyes out towards the greenery around them. It wasn't his favourite spot in town--and he knew Will knew it--but he enjoyed most places at night, and parks in particular. Drawing his hand back from the other, he set about buttoning the cuff of his shirt again, arms stretched into his own lap. "It's a shame you'll have to leave it soon, for 'my motherland'," he teased, though his voice held the soft, curious appeal of someone who had no stake in whether Will left or stayed. "Will you write to me? Or will I never hear from you again? Is this the sort of love story you've learned from all your books?"