He nods tightly. "Thank you," he mutters. The only person he's ever leaned on in the past is his sister. And she betrayed him. And he doesn't know how to handle it.

He moves his gaze to Wrath and notices what she's been doing, stroking his hand. "Don't twist your wrist," he admonishes, not for the first time, and moves his hand to take hers at a better angle. Being the caretaker, that's something he can handle. That's what he was made for, practically.