[ she's strong, he can tell that much. because with how fresh the tragedy is, there's plenty of ways to respond that don't come with this kind of collectiveness. but he can also tell there's resistance in it, that she's straining to keep it together, sees it in the dampness of her eyes that hold back, how she smiles to him despite the hurt that's still so evident in it.

she's a lot better at this than he is. but he knows that doesn't make it any easier. ]

Don't — don't worry about me, yeah? [ he tilts his head, getting a good look at her so their eyes meet, and though he doesn't quite smile, there's an ease in his lips that might as well be just that. ] Don't ever waste your apologies on me. I'm too much of an asshole to earn that.