Marcie couldn't look at him. His pain was so fresh and jagged and open, and she couldn't face it and not feel the tearing at her own slowly healing wound of grief. Swallowing hard, she set the coffee mug down and started undoing her braid, fluffing her fingers through her damp hair, and redoing a more complicated braid, just for something to do with her hands and mind that wasn't thinking about Tragos.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," she said quietly. "There's no rush." Except maybe there was? How long could Kaden stay here undetected?