He lets her take his hands, squeezing hers as reassuringly as he possibly can in this very confusing moment. She seems impossibly sincere. He wants what she's saying to be true, even as he wants what he suspects about all of their others to be false.

Feelings are more complicated than logic, and they're possibly the only thing that's absolutely impervious to rational argument. It feels like some deep, hidden cancer that he can't reach to shrink. Just because she doesn't want them doesn't mean she isn't still feeling them, that they aren't every bit as present as her blonde hair.

"What can I do?" he asks after a moment. "I know enough about echoes to know that this probably isn't something we can fix, but we can probably soothe it. Tell me what you need from me."