He's Steven. He couldn't not do good if he tried.

If she were anyone else, she might be able to say that. Might be able to reach out and brush the tear away from his skin, risk pulling him close.

But. She's Lapis . . . and even something so simple seems overwhelming. Instead she watches the tear as it creeps down his cheek, her fingers tightening in the folds of her skirt.

Deal with what is at hand. That, at least, she can do.

"What happened?" She keeps her voice soft. "What . . . do you remember?"