Rawdon received her gladly back into his embrace. He enjoyed the feeling of her resting there at his shoulder. It made him feel like he could do something to help, even if that thing was just being a solid, reliable structure to literally and figuratively lean on when she needed to. "Mmm... that is appreciated," he told her honestly. The memories of Waterloo still haunted, but perhaps more selfishly, the lingering memory of the fever that should have killed him sometimes frightened him more. It took him a little longer after waking from those dreams to remind himself and fully believe that he was cured.
He watched the video with some curiosity. It was incredible that her stories could nowadays be expressed so visually. It certainly made it more powerful, more real. But seeing the little boy... children that haunted dreams never did have happy endings. She said he got onto a shuttle, and he felt a short lived moment of relief, turning slightly to look at Shepard instead of the image just before she shut it off. "Ah..." He caught on. It hadn't made it. "Gad, I am sorry..." he said, his tone gentler than usual. It was a pointless, useless thing to say, but he did mean it.
He pulled a bit of a pained expression at her description of the actual dream. That sort of thing sounded much more familiar. "Ah, but when do these sorts of dreams ever let a little thing that reality get in the way of a more dramatic storyline, hmm?" he gave her a squeeze, as if trying to hold her pieces together for a moment.