Heather frowned. She'd half-expected that kind of reaction out of him, because she knew how frustrating it was to be in his situation. Wanting someone to talk about a problem you knew they had, but they just wouldn't do it. It had been that way for her the first time her father had been brought to L.A., telling her he hadn't died in his reality, so he wouldn't really talk about it all that much with her. She needed to talk about it, though, because for her, he really had been killed. She'd had to deal with it for a long time, but to confront it, she needed to talk it out with him. This version of her father hadn't died, either, but at least he acknowledged that it was possible, and he didn't tell her it was all in her head.
"Of course you're worried, Sam," she told him, moving up behind him to wrap her arms around his middle, resting her chin on his shoulder. "You care about them, they're your family. But it's not something you can force, you know? It has to be on their terms."