[Hesitantly - very hesitantly - he leans down a bit until his head is resting on top of hers. At least, on top of her hair; it's such a foreign gesture to him that he's not putting the full weight into the lean. The pillow-like puff of her hair helps to create a sort of barrier, but it's still obvious he's holding her close.]

[Her words aren't reassuring, like they should be. They wouldn't be, of course, as nice as they are coming from her. He's miserable because he makes himself miserable, that much is obvious. It doesn't stop the self-hate and deprecation, nor what he believes is fact: she deserves much, much better than him. But now isn't the time to harp on it, both due to circumstance and the firm knowledge that Anabel would continue to rebuke his beliefs. She always saw better in people, Nanu knows, and someone so entangled in her life as he is would be far from an exception.]

[It's awfully hard for him to understand.]

[He swallows, hard, silent as he listens to her as they both lean into the other's touch. Though he makes sure his breath doesn't hitch, the way his fingers subtly squeeze is proof that her words are affecting him. And when the last couple of sentences come around, his breath stops for a few seconds too long and his head dips even further into her hair.]

...I mean it.

[Too quiet, almost muttered. He's sounded exceedingly depressed this entire time, but that made it a little worse; if only because she had phrased it like he might have been simply placating her instead of really, truly meaing it.]

If you think you can stomach me, after all this... I'd never turn you away. I would hope you know that.