[She isn't terribly familiar with the prayer itself, though she closes her eyes and bows her head, clasping both hands together like she might for one of the Buddhist or Shinto customs she's more familiar with. The steadiness of his voice is comforting, but she can't seem to stop crying.
When he looks over, she's finally taken her glasses off, holding them loosely in one hand while pressing his handkerchief to her eyes with the other. There's a few quiet, gasping sobs, and even if she asked, she wouldn't be able to tell him just why. Maybe it's the finality of the thing.
She balls the handkerchief up in her hand and presses the back of her fist to her eyes, trying to take several deep, shuddering breaths to steady herself before extending her hand, holding out the crumpled handkerchief to try to prompt him to take it back.]
no subject
When he looks over, she's finally taken her glasses off, holding them loosely in one hand while pressing his handkerchief to her eyes with the other. There's a few quiet, gasping sobs, and even if she asked, she wouldn't be able to tell him just why. Maybe it's the finality of the thing.
She balls the handkerchief up in her hand and presses the back of her fist to her eyes, trying to take several deep, shuddering breaths to steady herself before extending her hand, holding out the crumpled handkerchief to try to prompt him to take it back.]