That... That makes sense. He guesses. He doesn't want it to, doesn't want her to be hurt, but it makes sense. There's the urge to pull his hands away when she offers hers, yet he refrains and just looks down at them. Somewhere, deep in his memories, he knows there should be something he should do here. Something right.

All he ends up doing is holding her hands, his own scarred and unnaturally thin fingers trembling.