( He reaches out. Settles a hand on one of her shoulders, just for a moment. Just long enough to telegraph that he's there, maybe offer up a little comfort. If they were a little closer, knew each other a little better, he'd probably pull her into a hug.
He doesn't. Not yet. Just squeezes gently, and then lets go again.
She's not wrong. That's one of the lines he's been feeding himself to keep going for years, recycled and swapped out among a few others he only barely believes.
He can't fix it. He's sure as hell not a therapist. He's not her father. There's only so much he can do besides be here and listen.
A moment later, gently: )
You ready to do this?
( One last check-in. One last chance to opt out. Judgment free zone. )
no subject
He doesn't. Not yet. Just squeezes gently, and then lets go again.
She's not wrong. That's one of the lines he's been feeding himself to keep going for years, recycled and swapped out among a few others he only barely believes.
He can't fix it. He's sure as hell not a therapist. He's not her father. There's only so much he can do besides be here and listen.
A moment later, gently: )
You ready to do this?
( One last check-in. One last chance to opt out. Judgment free zone. )