Higgs really didn't think it was 'okay, really'. Not with the way Siobhan looked about a shade paler. It had just seemed so meaningless to Higgs. He had mostly presumed that Max's unhappiness with him had been because Higgs had been a dick to him, rather than what he'd said to be one. The way Siobhan looked, though, made Higgs wonder if it was rather the latter than simply the former. "Siobhan," Higgs said carefully, putting his cup down and shuffling his chair closer to her, so he could reach out and run one of his hands over the outside of hers, a touch gentle enough that she could brush if off if she chose.
There was a pause, during which Higgs tried to go over all the things he could say. The problem that Higgs found with each as that he didn't really get what Siobhan's problem was. He doubted she cared a great deal for Higgs' implication that at some point he'd thought Max might've had a crush on a man, a boy really, since they'd all been teenagers. But apart from that Higgs really had no idea what her problem might be, not when Max so obviously loved her. "What's wrong?" Higgs asked instead, because he really had no idea what else there was to say if he didn't know what had made Siobhan look so... sad.