Roger looked down at their hands, wishing that the gesture could possibly help and wondering what else he could do. There had to be something, surely. He couldn't just sit here and watch Mandy unravel without doing anything to stop it. But try as he might... he simply didn't know what to do.
Her torrent of questions stung more than Roger had thought they would. "Nothing's wrong with you," he murmured hoarsely, still staring down at their hands and entwining his fingers between hers. "Nothing. It's us. I don't know what's wrong with us. Maybe... You're just too good for us. We self-destruct. It's the only explanation."
As to what she should do... Roger didn't have the first clue. He'd been sure that Oliver was better than this, that he, at least, deserved Mandy. That was obviously not the case. Hypocritical though it was, Roger nevertheless wanted nothing more than to give Wood a piece of his mind, to talk some semblance of sense into him.
"I'm so sorry, Mandy," he said, wanting to pull her into his arms but refraining out of self-reproach. "I don't know."