He reached up to touch it and then stopped himself, his hand falling into his lap.
"I mean, you're probably busy, though. Right?" He didn't want her to feel like she needed to stay, to feel obligated. But he was thinking about the frighteningly powerful people who would chase him where ever he went, through time and space and dimension so that there was never any escape from the fear of going under again. Never any peace, never unbroken sleep, and always nightmares.
"But, I mean, if you want to. I mean, if you're not busy..."