She'd be very easy to push away, and she wouldn't fight him on it. She hasn't been friends with Maine that long, after all. And she's already gotten into his personal space a lot tonight.

Wrath already knows that Maine isn't fine, for whatever reason. It's a relief that Maine also knows Maine isn't fine. She links her fingers with his, her other hand stroking the back of his soothingly, avoiding the darker spots of developing bruises.

"It's okay, Maine," she says quietly. To be upset. To feel anything. To hold on. A lot of things.