It's fortunate, of course, that Byerly has a long-honed instinct for what to do around crying women. He's had decades of experience with sobbing ladies - ladies sobbing truly, ladies sobbing falsely - and so it's like muscle memory at this point: turn, ideally stand (except, Maker's breath, she's nearly sitting in his lap; will Thranduil murder him? is this a trap?) and failing standing make one's breast available for crying into. Work a handkerchief from his pocket. Press it into her grip. Reach up one hand to softly stroke her hair. ]
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The fuck?
It's fortunate, of course, that Byerly has a long-honed instinct for what to do around crying women. He's had decades of experience with sobbing ladies - ladies sobbing truly, ladies sobbing falsely - and so it's like muscle memory at this point: turn, ideally stand (except, Maker's breath, she's nearly sitting in his lap; will Thranduil murder him? is this a trap?) and failing standing make one's breast available for crying into. Work a handkerchief from his pocket. Press it into her grip. Reach up one hand to softly stroke her hair. ]
There, there. You're all right.