Devero can tell. He can't help but feel a little adrift right now. After all, he's no counselor or therapist, no doctor. He knows how to offer front-line support for someone in the middle of a panic attack, but this? Drawing this deep current of pain up and out of Koumyou? That's something else entirely.

Still, gamely, he tries. He squeezes Koumyou's hand between his palms gently. "Tell me why," he urges. "Please. I want to understand." Perhaps earnestness can make up for what he lacks in training.