He lets her, though his frown doesn't disperse. Whatever has happened to her, it went deep. He was no stranger to tucking your pain away in a place it couldn't be touched, and he didn't like to think about what state he'd be in if someone opened that place in him without warning. (If that place could still be found anymore.)

He watches her scrub his fingers, and bites back the mad urge to offer her the only sort of strength he knew how to give someone else. If he offered, now shouldn't be the time.