"...If there's things you want to do that you don't think you can do by yourself, I could - try to help...?"

And, she's terrified again: wide-eyed, stiff, and staring off into the middle distance.

"Okay, I won't do that then."

What - oh, he's crying now. That's a thing that's happening. He should stop. It's probably going to freak her out, like everything else he's ever done.

It does, but, differently so; it takes a second for what she's hearing to register, but when it does, she looks worriedly at him and scoots over to put an arm around his shoulders.

...oh.

Okay.

That's - better than being terrified - maybe?

"Sorry," he murmurs, sniffling. "I keep - not knowing what to do, and then - doing the wrong thing - I don't know. I don't know."

She squeezes his shoulders by way of a hug.

She's still very tense, and after a second she starts trembling, just slightly; she looks around to make sure they're still unobserved.

He - tries to calm down, tries to think - why is she -

"...No one's going to hurt me for this," he says. In case it is that.

She gives him another dubious, concerned look - 'if you're wrong, that's going to be bad', she seems to be thinking - but the trembling stops.

He wipes his eyes and tries to focus on calming himself again. He doesn't know how to communicate his certainty, but if he stops crying that'll solve the problem just as well, right? Right?

She seems - not content, she's still very tense, but willing, at least, to sit there as long as it takes for him to calm down. She continues checking their surroundings every minute or two, apparently more out of habit than anything else.

Okay. He's - he's okay. Yeah. He rubs his eyes again and takes a deep breath and lets it out.

"...Thanks."

She squeezes him just a little tighter for a moment, and then lets go and scoots a few inches away, puts her hands in her lap and examines them.

...yeah.

He isn't sure what to say.

She doesn't seem particularly bothered by sitting there in silence.

After a few minutes, she asks, "Why? You... upset."

"I... I don't want to do things that hurt people," he says, after considering this question for a moment.

She nods. "I scared... not hurt, just scared. Okay," she asserts.

"...okay."

She does seem calmer, at that.

"If I... go... with you, and they come to take me, will... you be okay?"

"...I don't think anyone will," he says. "And if they did, I would not let them." (His soul flares slightly, though it's hard to tell in the general glow.)

She's concerned, again. "Easy to... be hurt, doing that."

"I know," he says.

"I—"

Now he's the one having trouble using words.

"Worth it sometimes," she nods. "Not this."