She only lets him go, lets him rant, keeps nodding and sending back that silent agreement that's less about his ideas and anger so much as it is about him, that she is agreeing because he is Jason and he's been actually hurt and it is more important to support him than it is to insert logic and reason into the situation.

"Shh, shh," she murmurs, holding his face again, looking at the wound. It looks well-enough cared for, as far as she can tell, but the ugly state of it makes her shake a little, her hands and shoulders. She leans in too, presses her lips first to his forehead and then to his unharmed cheek, creeping closer to get rid of the distance between them.

"Better. I had a piece of toast earlier, a whole slice. We'll be okay, both of us."