[ Guiding him down to the arrangement of pillows and blankets, she keeps his hand upon his shoulder as she adjusts to sits with her legs tucked beneath her. A few moments in respectful silence turn into a full minute, him and her sitting there as he remains focused upon his father, his hands nervously clasped together.
To think that when she first met him all those months ago, he apparently had been questioning if he should tell Regis he was his son. Now he doesn't even leave his side, despite his exhaustion. Of course he wouldn't leave; his father has perished in his world, and by how worried he is, she doubts he's ever seen his father like this before, unconscious and bedridden.
Quietly, her hand leaves his shoulder to reach out to the both of his upon his lap, as if attempting to-- not stop their wringing, but to calm it, support it. ] You... you're wearing the ring again.
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To think that when she first met him all those months ago, he apparently had been questioning if he should tell Regis he was his son. Now he doesn't even leave his side, despite his exhaustion. Of course he wouldn't leave; his father has perished in his world, and by how worried he is, she doubts he's ever seen his father like this before, unconscious and bedridden.
Quietly, her hand leaves his shoulder to reach out to the both of his upon his lap, as if attempting to-- not stop their wringing, but to calm it, support it. ] You... you're wearing the ring again.
[ ... ] ...To protect him?