Truth be told, Aleron is lingering nearby for some time, taking pleasure in nothing more than watching Bethany. He's no clue who it is she's attempting to write to or why it is causing her so much distress. Her encounters with ink smudges would just be wholly precious, were it not for her clearly being troubled by her task.

A handkerchief is pulled out of a pocket and held out to her for the taking. He refrains from being nosy and attempting to see the contents of the letter. It is not his place to pry, he feels. "Can I help in any way? Or am I interrupting?"

He's banking on interrupting. Much as he adores Bethany and all her sweetness, there is forever a nagging feeling leftover from his childhood that he is a bother to be shuttled away. She's never treated him thus, one of the many things he appreciates about her; yet, there is still that quiet, persistent fear of being an annoying burden lingering in the back of his mind.