"I don't think it's your fault." The softness of her voice matches his. "I know it isn't."

Rarely is she touched -- and especially not gently. When his hand reaches for her, for a moment she only freezes, uncertain at his stretching fingers.

Only on instinct does she stretch a hand out in return, palm up. Her skin is soft and cool.

What now? What should she do? She looks to him for confirmation.