Despite everything, it was still new enough that there was a moment of anticipation before her arms came around him. He was better at taking than she was, so it always reassured him when she did some of that, too. "Hey there, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair, palms open on her back and greedy for those extra points of contact. There was a long moment where he didn't say anything more and just stayed there. It was less than he'd have liked, less time for taking comfort and giving it, but he'd found himself a busy woman and he could deal with what that often meant.
He eventually moved his hands to her shoulders and eased back only enough to see her - and in the dim light she could see when he took in the stitches, but also that he was taking in everything else. Signs of stress and grief, of exhaustion. "Mind if I interrupt your packing?" he asked, mostly because he already had and there wasn't much she could do about it now.