There's a momentary buzz of tension in him, some anxious responsive echo to the discomfort shedding from her. For a moment, he thinks to apologize. He wants to. He didn't meant to make her uncomfortable. But he can't find the words or fight past the choked lump in his throat. The sensation ekes out across his link to her, though. Maybe that's better anyway.

"Okay." He's a tall, lanky young man - all limbs -, but there's something about the arrangement or the play of light in the room that makes him seem small there in the economically shaped chair. "You too."