When he finally lets her go, she doesn't run. She only stands there with her head bowed and her heart aching. He's right, he does know what she's feeling. She remembers how much it hurt to watch him after the Helmsman disappeared. He would know, he would understand. And she feels suddenly guilty that she lashed out at him so violently.

She lifts her head a bit at his invitation to come with him, but she doesn't take it just yet. She can smell the lines of indigo on his face, and... it feels wrong. It twists her gut in a way that she hasn't felt in a long time. He didn't deserve a mark like that.

The offered hand is ignored for the moment. Instead she reaches up to his face, trying to dab away the beads of blood with her sleeve as they well up from the scratches. It doesn't do much good except to smear the color into his paint, and she winces a little in apology. There's nothing that she can say or do for it, so she gives up and lowers her hand into his.