The way she clings to him is kinder than anything she might say. Human isn't how he's felt, these past days. He's hung around like a shadow, a ghost; it's reassuring, how sharp her knuckles are. If this was comfortable it wouldn't be right. They've got too goddamn much to mourn. It's gonna hurt.

They'll get through, they'll keep fighting, but the hurt's not gonna go away. They can't just pretend it's all right.

Though with any luck she won't mention the undignified sniffle as he gets himself back under control.