It's weird, sometimes, how Wolfgang's soul can feel so old, echoed through many, but in other ways he isn't. Benji doesn't think about it very carefully when she steps nearer as he stands, her hands moving like she might help him up -- but inevitably not, watching him, just ready.

"You always seem much further away than you actually are," she comments, finally stepping in front of him with a little more determination than she has, prior, and her hands go out to find his. Still keeping gentle, though, studying a little the over-red skin of his fingers and maybe the state of his nails. "Like an optical illusion. Except maybe the illusion is the other way around to that."

She tips a look up at him, betraying more hesitation than she'd like. "You aren't fine. It worries me. Don't say sorry, it's not your fault."