He squeezed her hand lightly and nodded. "I know you are," he told her. If she wasn't going to be okay, Sam wouldn't be sitting here right now. He'd be out, desperate as hell, trying to find a way to make sure that things would start looking up for her.
"Is the toast all right?" He inquired, looking to her face. "I mean, if it's too...crisp or burnt or whatever, I could go back and make some more. I'm not very good with...appliances." He shot her a sheepish look. "Got lucky with the ones you've got there."