He felt the weight of the moment, and he rose, and moved around the table and impulsively sat down next to her as she began to cry. It undid something inside of him, and where in the past he would have kept on, in a rational logical way to explain the benefits and virtues of the situation, this time, he could not. He found his handkerchief, the PW embroidered on it in white, and he held it out to her, wanting to cross that divide and reach for her hand.
He didn't speak for a moment, listening to her cry, her voice so quiet and low, "Oh Lavender, you should not be going through this alone. What you are experiencing is not abnormal, but alone, it magnifies and is petrifying."
He felt her body pressed against his side, and could feel the subtle tremble that shook her. It was completely inappropriate for him to be this close to her but he didn't care; he felt this incredible need to comfort her, to protect her.
He looked down at the hand close to him and impulsively he picked it up, and held it gently, "Do you have someone to be with you this moon that is coming? You should not experience it alone," he said, concern lacing his tone.