She can feel every little prickle of nervousness coming from him, he doesn't want company, fears it or what he'll do to it, but he's too kind to push her openly away. This is a level of dishonest that doesn't tend to sit well with her, but everything about him makes her want to stay close, to find some way to help - there has to be a way to help, somehow, even if he doesn't see it. Her hands fidget continuously as she walks. If she can help him, if she can earn some sort of trust or...

It concerns her how easy it is sometimes to justify this to herself.

"How long have you been here?" she asks softly, even though she knows.