[ —oh God damn it all, anything but that sight. Anything but those tears.
He has the urge to slide forward against the back of that row, his hands sliding around her shoulders and crossing over her chest. Neil doesn't care if it would be the most awkward hug ever.
...but no. The meister stays still and only knits his brows to show his concern. ] A little extra blood on my hands shouldn't make a difference. At least, this time, it wouldn't have been anything to do with me. [ Except for recruiting the guy to man the confessional — perhaps the very same mistake that set all this in motion, in hindsight — he barely knew the guy. Much less who his enemies were. ]