[ it's almost exhausting to watch her. she seems weary to say the least, and his presence is clearly an inconvenience. that she keeps to such rigid formalities even in such a situation of strain, he can't imagine it. no, that's not true, he can. it reminds him of the leftenant he was once and wore yet, a brother he tries not to think of too frequently. Liam would be mortified by his behavior at the moment, but honestly his brother would be mortified by his existence at this point. it's nothing new.

in the end, that momentary break, of exhaustion that has nothing at all to do with weariness of the body, is what draws him toward actual conrition. because he knows how that feels, too, and he distinctly feels he's seen something he was not meant to. at least he's got enough compassion not to be amused by grief, and he knows that isn't his business either.

he doesn't make note, simply steps out of her space. ] I'll take my leave, then. [ it's an instinctive reaction to want to say darling, just in attempts to pull her back from where she is, and it's the memory that he will only make it worse that lets him bite his tongue. before he completely departs, though, he offers in an almost uncomfortable mutter,] You might want to lock the door. I don't believe I'm the only one searching for a way out of this place. [ it might save her a bit of misery. ]