"Hey." Iman scoots her chair closer awkwardly, pinioning herself on Greta's hand until she's close enough to lean in, offering bodily support if it's wanted. "It's okay." She presses her forehead briefly to Greta's shoulder. "Look, you don't have to talk about it, but you can, too. If you want to. That's what this is about, yeah? That's what I'm here for. You can talk to me about anything you want. You know that, right?"

She wishes she had both hands, she wishes more than anything she could reach out to stroke Greta's back or her hair, something more than just being a hand to grip onto. But that's what she has, and it'll have to be enough.