"I have you, little one. All will be well."

As promised, he stops when the bowl is half empty, and moves it to the side, away from where it might be knocked by a stray hand, moving himself closer and letting his hand slide down to her shoulders, pulling the covers up to dab at the tears on her face.

"I think," he murmurs. "that you would feel much nicer if I were to fetch some clean sheets, and help you wash your hair, Sina. May I do that for you?"