Kyrie wouldn’t hold the quick snap of aversion to touch against him - the poor young man seemed to be experiencing a lot of things, many of which she had been through herself. Her expression would soften, eyes would grow sad and her eyebrows would dip slightly. But people needed strength during these times, not pity. She had learned that the first year or so being here and so Kyrie made herself smile at him, for him and waited for the reaction to cease.
The way his face contorted in pain had her heart wrenching. Fingers delicate ascended, pads would touch tenderly and carefully at the line of his jaw opposite the side of his face she could see in effort to hold him still. The cloth would be pressed every so softly upon skin. Often you couldn’t see bruises which might lay beneath the skin and she knew she had to be cautious so as not to deliver more unnecessary pain.
Kyrie found his humor amusing. Corners of her lips would twist with the expression, she had to bite at her bottom lip in effort to stave off a giggle. In such a time she could appreciate a funny comment and she couldn’t help but like him immensely already in spite of being an unfamiliar stranger. “You’ve been very brave,” she offered, that feigned smile betraying her and blossoming into something more true and genuine.
Eyes would study the lines of his face, every dip and curve, any freckle if he had any, as she worked diligently to ensure he was presentable. Patiently, Kyrie continued to listen. When he posed the question she frowned, nodding. “Yes. Don’t walk by yourself anywhere,” she cautioned, the light in her eyes diminishing quickly. “Travel with someone else, or in groups. The guards aren’t friendly. Would you like me to walk with you where you live?” They all looked out for each other here as best as they could.