Oh-- [He realises, after a slight delay, that she's tearing up. He reaches up on reflex as if he wants to touch her cheek, below her good eye, but he falters. He doesn't have her acceptance, only, it seems, grief and confusion.]

A lot of things, probably? [He smiles weakly, a little joke at his own expense, his hand lowering back to his side.] But I don't think there's anything wrong with the way I feel. Or how you feel, for that matter. If you want to cry, then cry.

[No one else can see her here. They might notice through communion, sure, but there are so many other emotions swirling around the group like so much background noise, it might offer some scant privacy, too.]