[ He can see her as he wishes. In this moment, it seems that he needs that, or so she perceives, some sort of allusion to his real family. Obliging, especially because he's hurt, is no burden to her as far as she's cognitively aware; so, she smiles at the hug-- returning it warmly.
When he pulls back, her hand lifts to place it upon his back, giving it a soft pat. And there it stays for a moment longer before she drops it back down to take his hand. This time, her fingers interweave with his.
"I'm so afraid of doing something that might hurt you." She knows that-- in this context, it can't just be her. He had expressed worry for his wife and child, he had expressed worry for Ignis from the train, for Gladio in this world. Swapping out that "you" for anyone, or the entire world, she believes, gives further insight into how anxious he is about causing harm.
She shakes her head, her smile sorrowful, pained at first from hearing how he suffers, but then sympathetic. ] Tony. You, Tony, and you, Iron Man. You're fallible, and... you cannot see the future. [ Perfection is the opposite of good, and power leads to an air of capability. She sees how damaging this is to him; surely, he must see it, too. ] And relationships-- they're not always perfect. [ Her voice is sincere, but gentle. No one likes to be told they're not perfect, or that it's possible harm might occur, but to tell him that no harm will occur ever is a false hope, unrealistic. But she wants him here, in the present, and based in reality.] When that happens, that's up to you and other person.
[ She knows this to be true, and she's experienced it herself: hurt, then reconciliation, then moving forward, based on what both parties want. Reassurance is something she can give him, and she'll give him it as many times as it's needed, until that worried smile of his becomes something stronger, something grander, and something that he doesn't feel he needs to hide. That he worries at all, that he's confiding and seeking help-- she sees it as that he's already trying to better himself, already trying to be careful with his relationships. He's trying, and that's worth something.
A pause follows her words, and she adjusts how she sits, turning more to face him as another thought occurs to her. ]
Easier said than done but-- [ Her tone changes again, earnest, as if asking something of him... Or, perhaps, wanting something for him, because he should have this:] That fear... Don't let that come between what happiness you can have-- and bring-- to your bonds with others.
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When he pulls back, her hand lifts to place it upon his back, giving it a soft pat. And there it stays for a moment longer before she drops it back down to take his hand. This time, her fingers interweave with his.
"I'm so afraid of doing something that might hurt you." She knows that-- in this context, it can't just be her. He had expressed worry for his wife and child, he had expressed worry for Ignis from the train, for Gladio in this world. Swapping out that "you" for anyone, or the entire world, she believes, gives further insight into how anxious he is about causing harm.
She shakes her head, her smile sorrowful, pained at first from hearing how he suffers, but then sympathetic. ] Tony. You, Tony, and you, Iron Man. You're fallible, and... you cannot see the future. [ Perfection is the opposite of good, and power leads to an air of capability. She sees how damaging this is to him; surely, he must see it, too. ] And relationships-- they're not always perfect. [ Her voice is sincere, but gentle. No one likes to be told they're not perfect, or that it's possible harm might occur, but to tell him that no harm will occur ever is a false hope, unrealistic. But she wants him here, in the present, and based in reality.] When that happens, that's up to you and other person.
[ She knows this to be true, and she's experienced it herself: hurt, then reconciliation, then moving forward, based on what both parties want. Reassurance is something she can give him, and she'll give him it as many times as it's needed, until that worried smile of his becomes something stronger, something grander, and something that he doesn't feel he needs to hide. That he worries at all, that he's confiding and seeking help-- she sees it as that he's already trying to better himself, already trying to be careful with his relationships. He's trying, and that's worth something.
A pause follows her words, and she adjusts how she sits, turning more to face him as another thought occurs to her. ]
Easier said than done but-- [ Her tone changes again, earnest, as if asking something of him... Or, perhaps, wanting something for him, because he should have this:] That fear... Don't let that come between what happiness you can have-- and bring-- to your bonds with others.