He reaches out, supports her back as she lays down. And when she reaches for him again, he takes her hand in his, brushes the lightest of kisses to her fingers. He's here; he's here. It's the only thing he can offer. His hands are warm.

But the question of her other hand occurs to him too, and he frowns. Silas will need the space to work. She can't, actually, raise that arm anyway. He looks from her to Silas, questioning. Is this good enough, or are they going to have to try to figure something out?