She wasn’t well, and he half-wanted to suggest escorting her to the hospital to have her examined properly, because she was obviously under immense stress. No wonder, Elias considered: there had been murders in the newspapers, too close to home. She probably shouldn’t be out alone in the streets... but it wasn’t as if she had anyone else.

Gently, tentatively, Elias placed his hand back on her shoulder where she stood, hoping to reassure her rather than alarm her this time, rubbing his thumb in place to say I’m here.

If the look he gave her was knowing, he was hardly going to argue with her in the street about how she was feeling. He could see her glancing over his shoulder like she was still afraid. His expression softened somewhat, and he leant down to retrieve her basket, slinging it onto his own arm. “Come on. Let me walk you home,” he said lightly, offering her his other arm expectantly, less a request than an instruction for which he wouldn’t accept protest. The sooner they got there, the better. It was what any friend would do, if they came across her with such frayed nerves – because, whether she pretended to be alright or not, she shouldn’t be alone.

---