They're both cyclopes, and in a brief moment of comedy, they're both missing the same eye, so looking at her straight is slightly odd. Still he reaches for her hand to take it in his, young callouses on old weathering, and tugs gently. It'll be a hug if she follows it; if not, nothing but holding on.

"I know I don't understand what it's like to have your kind of responsibility. I've never dealt with all of that fighting or the choices you've had to make, and all those lives depending on you. I can empathize with it, but I don't know it. Your siblings would. ... But I know what it's like to want to die. I was--younger than you, when I first tried. And I have killed myself. A lot."

Deep breath.

"When I say that, I'm not trying to, to downplay any of... any of it. I just want you know that I've been on that battlefield. I've flown that flight. I've flown it a hell of a lot," he laughs briefly, a mildly convulsive sound, "I'm flying it right now. So I need you to know that when you're... when you're out on that field, you're not alone."

His voice breaks. He sniffs and clears his throat, then gestures with his head to the others. "I know they've been there, too."