Gwenaëlle's disappointed everyone she's ever known, she thinks, which is -

at least a slight exaggeration, probably. Her fingers tighten where he's holding onto her hands and she gives him a nudge with them, a little thing, wry, dips her head again and kisses the back of his hands. "Stop comforting me," she scolds him, rubbing his fingers with her thumbs. "That isn't what I'm here for." She's here because - she can be, because she can handle it, because she knows how to be here.

Because she cares enough for him for the fact that she can do it to mean she will. Family.