Raphael had grown up with three sisters, and yet he still didn't have any clue how to comfort a crying woman. It wasn't in his nature to know how to explain their fears away and make them feel safe. He usually deflected discomfort and pain with humor and morbidity, and while on a good day he thought Yaxley might find his jokes funny, he doubted she wanted to hear them now. He moved forward and sunk to his knees in front of her, one hand reaching out to wrap around her wrist. He pulled her hand away from her face, his his own expression mirroring her pained one.

"Hey," he said softly. He didn't know what else to say, so he stared her in the eye, hoping she could see that he cared. He knew she knew that—he wouldn't have put himself through all of this if he didn't, but he needed confirmation.

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