Jo watched Oli as he spoke, worry lines puckering her brow. When his furrowed, and he rubbed at his head as if to make everything disappear, she started to reach for his hand. She was about to touch his cheek and wrap him in a calming scent when she saw the red start to drip from his nose. Before she could say anything, he'd made himself aware. She knew he'd triggered himself.
Without stopping to think, because she'd done it several times after starting a bar fight, Jo took off her jacket then pulled her (white) tee shirt over her head. She gently put it over Oli's nose, completely oblivious to the fact that she was now standing outside, in the middle of the night, in December, with only her bra to keep her torso warm. At least it was padded.
She let the calming pheromones go. "You need to get that guilt under control, Oli," she said gently. "She's a stubborn teenager with a mind of her own. You've raised her well, teaching her all the right lessons. It's up to her to learn them."