Oh god! They're all so nice. So fucking nice and forgiving. Something Martha isn't. Wasn't. And why the hell is she so worried about it anyway? This isn't something to be squandered. From any of them. And yet... and yet it's hard to handle this. He offered his hand the way one would to a skittish animal, and Martha's first impulse was to run away. Hide. And she didn't know why.
Martha stared at that hand for a very, very long moment.
And then, just as slowly and very deliberately, she pulled a hand out of her pocket and placed it in his.