The urge to hold her deepened when she turned to him, trying so hard to appear normal despite obviously having been crying. She looked so vulnerable, her face tearstained and her hair simply pulled back, and swimming in what he suddenly realized was the sweatshirt she had adopted from him. Somehow, she was just as beautiful like this as when she was dressed up and polished; but, he knew that she would appreciate neither observation. One of the things they had always had in common was an aversion to seeming anything other than in control of a situation.
Still, they had had all control of their lives and memories taken from them, somehow, and now they were left with a jumbled mess to sort through. And it was going to be a difficult enough task without losing the illusion of being remotely in control now that they were back to their normal lives-- or, as normal as these lives were.
And, Robin needed to know that he was in control of himself once more, which was why he was forcing himself to approach this as rationally as possible. It was difficult, and he had no clue how long he could keep it up, but he had to try to maintain it for now.
He frowned slightly at her question. "No. Thanks." Glancing toward the kitchen, which was much nearer to him than to her, he asked, "Would you like something?"