Desmond's eyes were watchful, carefully taking in her features, watching the way that they shifted this way and that in pain. It was probably the hardest thing about living. Watching someone you cared for suffer without being able to do anything about it. He could watch her eyes shifting as he mentioned the djinn, and for a moment he felt a pang of guilt for having brought it up to her in the first place. Then again, it was not as if djinn were a secret at Alden... and the legends spoke enough about them that it would be more likely for her to hear about them and not know about the terrible price their wishes had. It did not seem that most humans remembered about that little caveat anymore.
When she offered her hand to him he took it lightly and moved to sit beside her, lightly reaching beneath her head, as she was still laying down, and quietly scooping her head up to sit beneath it and lay her head in his lap, his leather covered hands lightly running through her hair as he looked down at the pained expression on her face, one of his hands moving to touch her cheek comfortingly, caressing it as best he could through those gloves. For a moment he considered removing them, but he was afraid the act might distract her from what was consuming her, make this moment less about her and more about a forward caressing of skin upon skin, and that seemed... wrong, for the moment.
He flinched though, when she asked about what it was that had happened that he had wanted to change. His eyes glanced to the horizon for a moment and then closed for a long time, slightly clenching as if banishing whatever ghosts had crept up upon him at her words. Whatever had happened in the past was no doubt painful, but she would likely be able to see that it was still raw. Even after so many hundreds of years, it still was an open wound, something that he couldn't close, something that he couldn't let go. Taking in a slow breath, he tried to think of the best way to answer her question when she asked. What could he really say that would not take days to explain to her?
"The worst day of my life." he said softly, and left it at that.
He let her get up when she moved to slide to a sitting position and gripped her knees, not making a move to get closer to her, but rather just staying beside her so that she could lean against him if she wanted to, or fall into his arms if that was her desire. His blue eyes questioningly looked to her as he hoped to get from her what it was that haunted her vision so... He knew that in some ways she was feeling the same hurt that he once had felt. In other ways, however, there was no way she could understand that pain... if she had, she would not be here talking to him. Desmond frowned a little as he thought about how many died simply to quench the anger inside of him after it... the rage that he had not let himself feel before or after that fact.
When she confessed though, he frowned slightly deeper, and shook his head. "By their nature, all sentient creatures that I have met have been marvelous at tracking patterns in things. It is how we learn, taking something that we know and applying it to something that we do not know. In some ways, it is a beautiful thing. But it also leads to needless superstition, and self doubt. Two instances occur close together and we associate them naturally even though they have no cause to be associated. Or we presume that our actions control those of another... when really all that happened was a simple contribution to something much grander."
He paused then, and looked at her. "What do you think you did?"