There is a pause, before he moves until he's standing within arm's reach of her. "Do you need to bake?" he finds himself asking, his mind catching up after the words are out of his mouth, remembering her mentioning how she would bake when she was upset or stressed. "If not..." he glances out the windows. "It's a pleasant night. I could bring you tea in the garden, or by the lake."

He wants desperately to say 'let me take care of you, now,' but he senses it would be the wrong thing to say, it would push her and he's not sure of the outcome. If she would tell him what was wrong, and feel better for it afterward; if it would push her away from him, locking her feelings down and becoming unreachable to him, trying all the harder in the future to hide these fragile moments. Or if she would simply shatter, with him having no clue how to put the pieces back together, yet.

He reaches out, but simply touches his fingertips to her bicep in a small gesture of comfort. "I will do what you need, if you tell me." His voice the whole time he speaks is soothing, and his last words are as close as he intends to getting to revealing that he's aware of the turmoil she's in.