[He'd looked back down at his tray, filling his fork, but when she speaks again he stops and sharply looks back at her, catching the tone. He watches her uncertainly for a moment (tears, he never knew what to do with a woman's tears), then slowly pulls his napkin free. Gently, he holds it out.]
I don't know. Yet. But we're going to figure it out.
no subject
I don't know. Yet. But we're going to figure it out.