He allows her to lead him away, replying with quiet assent and something that sounds like both thanks and an apology as he follows mechanically. It's an effort to put one foot before the other now that he's allowing himself to feel his state instead of pushing through it. He loses track of the time, only feeling Amelia's hand reassuringly in his and trying to sort through the mess of his head and heart. He's missed something, he can tell. Something important. Perhaps more than one thing but his mind slides off what it could be and the tangle is all but forgotten when he finally smells shadow and realized that Amelia is already leading him upstairs.

He sheds the cloak first, then his shirt without preamble as she leads him to the bathroom and pauses to bring her fingers against his cheeks, burning hot to his chilled skin even if logically he knows she must be cold as well. There's still snow on the ground outside.

He takes a moment just to breathe, to find himself again and force himself to be here, now, with her and a softness comes over his eyes when he opens them again, his cheeks gaining back some color. He brings his hands around hers and moves to kiss the fingers of one, lips warmed as he makes himself settle. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me; I just couldn't stand him leaving like that. Shutting down..."

He shakes his head, not sure what else to say. She probably needs reassurance too. He's not the only friend Chris has, not even here in this room. "He'll be alright. He's strong and he won't let this beat him."

Doubt threatens that statement. What had he said to Amelia when they'd panicked about this before? That Chris would be alright. That he can protect himself. He can, on any given day, but.

But.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Amelia's and sliding his arms around her. He can't handle anything more painful tonight. He'll grieve and he'll feel guilty tomorrow but for now he just needs to feel peace. "Let's get cleaned up, alright? You've got red in your hair."