[For as much as he's willed himself to expect this sort of reaction from any given situation, it'll always be difficult to witness. The hard thudding of her heart, the scent of her tears; his own heart feels as though it's also at the back of his throat.
He isn't going to try and say anything else. Not yet. Instead - although honestly tentative initially - his arms move to embrace her with a gentle, though secure hold. One hand moves to the back of her head, his own tipped forward.
(I'm sorry,) he keeps wanting to say. Nothing will be enough.
This really isn't the time and place for this, but there's no helping it.]