Not able to raise her eyes - how could she look at Clara, how could she even be near enough to touch? It wasn't right, Lexi was dirty, was broken, was damned and Clara shouldn't be subjected to that - Lexi shook her head mutely. Her neck was bent, submissive and guilty, and dark waves covered her face. She looked, at once, nothing at all like the man she had been and everything like Lancelot at the end, grief stricken and dying of his own despair.
"I'm sorry," she rasped, fingers shaking. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry." Nothing she could say, nothing she could ever say, could possibly be enough. Lexi bowed further, scraping the floor, forehead pressed to Clara's knee in desperate supplication.