Devero folds the napkin over a couple of times and places the pad against the upwelling blood at the base of his thumb. He sandwiches Koumyou's hand between his own and applies a firm pressure.

He doesn't look up at the other man, but he does ask diffidently, "Would it help you to talk about it?" Because he certainly understands what it's like to have mental land-mines-- a few of his own had already been triggered just earlier today, hadn't they? He doesn't want to pry into something raw.

But he does want Koumyou to know that he doesn't have to bleed alone among the shrapnel.