[She nods. That's so often the answer. Nothing can be done from here. They need control over their lives. Their fates. She feels her own swell of responsibility for that. For the mission she hasn't come close to accomplishing. She hasn't stopped the wardens. She hasn't gotten people home.
She reaches up, tucking back strands of longer hair. She wants to hug him. To share this with him. It isn't the "I" that stops her so much as the body language. She doesn't want to push herself somewhere unwanted. She takes to writing again. "How are you doing? Can I do anything?"]