He doesn't shush her weeping at all, doesn't murmur platitudes or promises. He simply holds her, letting her cry it out, somehow suspecting she's been fighting doing so for long enough. He strokes her hair, ignoring his own tears. He'd wept too many to pay them any mind any longer.

When she pulls back and then rests her forehead against his he lifts a hand and places it on the side of her face, thumb rubbing her cheekbone.

Azwel smiles a watery smile of his own. "Fewer than I'm used to, I had four siblings... but... it sounds perfect." He wobbles slightly, eyes half-open. "It... sounds much more manageable...."

He steps back, then stumbles toward her sofa to sit down before he falls down.