Francis does as he's told, sitting down next to Julian, tilting his head just so to make it easier for him to slide the collar around his neck. He nods in silent agreement, and he couldn't explain it, but there's something about being told not to speak. To just be quiet and answer questions if asked, but to just- it's like permission to let the world be a little bit less loud for a while.

He doesn't quite know what the intention here is, but he trusts Julian. Trusts him with his hands on him and when it's words and direction, too. And there's a certain comfort in having the other man set the direction rather than just what Francis had the insight to ask for. So he settles, puts his head in his lap, shifting just to make sure he can hear him.