Hermes was apologising to her. He shouldn't have to do that! But he was holding her hair and rubbing her back and Luna couldn't remember the last time someone had done those things for her, an act of tenderness that got them nothing in return.
She reached up and tore some toilet paper from the roll to wipe her mouth, though there was little to wipe away. She'd hardly eaten anything all day. She swallowed against the glass in her throat and then leaned over to flush the toilet.
When she moved it was to sit back against the little cabinet. She dropped her cheek onto her drawn up knees and looked at him. "My Lord," she said to him, but then didn't know what to follow it up with. So instead she just reached out for his hand and squeezed it. "My Lord," she repeated, helpless and grateful.