Jo supposed this was a sort of learning process; she had never dealt with obviously abused people, despite all her activism, and much less with abused werewolves. She had no term of comparison, no way to normalize the situation, no way to know just how to react - or how not to. With Sam, it seemed, she'd have to learn by trial and error. Only she wished the error part of it wasn't so heart-wrenching. In any case, touching was off the table unless Sam somehow ever made it clear he wanted to be touched. Or unless he fell off a cliff and she had to pull him up, or something.
Despite the wonderful smell coming from the pancakes Jo had lost some of her appetite, probably due to the knot in her stomach. When Sam said he was sorry Jo stopped what she was doing, narrowing her eyes in confusion. He shouldn't be sorry, he had nothing to be sorry for. Sure, his reaction had scared the bejesus out of her but this wasn't about her. After a little while Jo turned back around. "No, no, you don't have anything to apologize for." She told him, almost as quietly as he had spoken to her. "I'll just-" Jo turned around, picking up the plate with the pancakes she didn't want anymore. "-I'll just get out of your hair." Before she did, however, she made a stop at the cutlery drawer. Jo had been known to (literally) wolf down a dozen pancakes using only what God had given her but today felt like a fork day.