Alfred did not have a wealth of experience with tears. Sailors were not known as the sort to get sentimental very often, and if one had been feeling vulnerable they were just as likely to punch you as a result of it than to engage in such an overt display of emotion. He had been in quite some predicaments, though, during his time, so it had happened. On the Sycorax expedition when the men had felt so utterly hopeless that they allowed themselves something like this, he had felt it was his role, as an officer and then as the supposed Captain of their unfortunate voyage, to remain calm and collected and to reassure them that things weren't as hopeless as they seemed. Don't acknowledge any emotion at all, only respond to the facts, and do so in a way that instilled confidence. This was decidedly different from trying to reassure men facing almost certain death in the wilderness, but since that was the only experience he had, it was what he fell back on.

"You will," he said, reaching out to put his hand on her knee and give it a reassuring squeeze. "Just because it's difficult at first doesn't mean you can't do it. There was a time in your life when you'd never had to balance on your own two feet before, and you learned to walk all the same, didn't you?"

He hoped this was helping; he wasn't sure how to read her when she was in this state, and he couldn't be sure. "Here — try it again and close your eyes," he suggested, moving his hands back to the pillow to hold it for her. "Get rid of all the other distractions. Look for that magic inside you. It's there, you just have to find it. Then pull it out. You can do it."