The hand on her shoulder wasn't enough pressure, wasn't enough anything, but Octavia didn't really have the words to communicate that right now. Or anything else useful, either.
She was trying to work up to it, honest, she was.
Her knuckles were white, her nails pressing into her palms.
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She was trying to work up to it, honest, she was.
Her knuckles were white, her nails pressing into her palms.