[She nods a little; okay, no water, then. Instead she just hovers awkwardly by him, not wanting to go far enough away to drag her own chair over, and lets him talk.
What's she supposed to say, though? Something tells her that going "some people are just that fucked up" is just going to make things worse.] ...I'm sorry. [It's a start. Considering, she winds her hoodie string around her finger. She's seen and stepped through worse—or what she's presuming was worse, anyway; she'll have to go investigate later—but she can't expect everyone else to deal with it the same way, especially not when someone she cares about is such a wreck right in front of her.] We'll find out who did it. We will.
no subject
What's she supposed to say, though? Something tells her that going "some people are just that fucked up" is just going to make things worse.] ...I'm sorry. [It's a start. Considering, she winds her hoodie string around her finger. She's seen and stepped through worse—or what she's presuming was worse, anyway; she'll have to go investigate later—but she can't expect everyone else to deal with it the same way, especially not when someone she cares about is such a wreck right in front of her.] We'll find out who did it. We will.