His eyes widen a little when she grasps his wrist, and he looks down at it before he looks back at her. Her emotions move fluidly from one to the other, her thoughts not tumbling so much as crashing into the next roll of waves. She's high-strung and he can feel it, now, and it's like an echo of his own continuous stress.

He listens to her, too, through everything she's feeling, and sits down a few seats away from her. He can't be too close right now.

"It wasn't a lot," he says, needing her to know. "Just-- echoes."