Benji nods, as if this is a thing she can sympathise with or understand -- she is at least listening and has enough eye contact for the both of them, really. Even after failing to read the details of Wolfgang's condition in his hands, she chooses to keep a hold of them in a light tangle -- she could probably be shaken off rather easily. Her nails are ever blunt, fingers decorated with one hoop of braided silver, wrists long and bare and bony.

"Can I ask why?" --could just be 'why?', but it's not so much about whether Benji thinks she deserves an answer so much as that she isn't sure if Wolfgang will have one.