He grabs her hand and squeezes it back, tight, but not tight enough to hurt. Holding it close like he was afraid to lose her.

"No." It's a firm statement, like he wants to stop her from even thinking that it was a bad call to come. "I, I want you here. I don't want you to think you shouldn't be here. You're the only one who can understand me right now."

He listens to what she says and does just that. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath and tries to let his mind open. He stays completely quite for several minutes. "The sound of the dogs collar upstairs every time he moves around. The smell of those fries even long after they cooled down," he flicks his tongue against his lips with a sigh.

"The smell of your shampoo, or hairspray, or whatever it is," he doesn't really understand what all of those things are, but he knows that's one of the scents there.

"Can we...?" He trails off with a sigh letting go of her hand. "I don't like the table between us," he instead says, like stating a problem to be solved is much easier to do then to ask for something. He doesn't seem to like to ask.