[He lets out the most accurate depiction of an oof ever breathed, a little startled — though he supposes by now he's at least getting the sinking feeling that she's thinking much more differently about the situation than he was going for. Dammit. He's so bad at this, at keeping things quiet. He almost apologizes for being a bad liar.
But instead he wraps his arms around her, like he would May.]
It's okay. [— he says, like he would Aunt May. And then, less confidently, with more subdued mumble:] It wasn't about me, remember?
no subject
But instead he wraps his arms around her, like he would May.]
It's okay. [— he says, like he would Aunt May. And then, less confidently, with more subdued mumble:] It wasn't about me, remember?
[... It's nice, to get a hug, though.
It's really nice.]