Maybe he should be wary of how much having her here is comforting him, but right now all he can do is cling to that bit of light. Her clinging back against him feels a hundred times better than anything else that's transpired today, and the emotion in her voice hurts, but it makes him feel like he matters, like this wasn't okay, and he can't think too hard about that or he knows the pressure in the bridge of his nose will give way to liquid on his face.

Something hits against her and he tugs at her protectively, meaning to move her, but she steps away. It takes him a moment to realize she has his clothes. Her orders no longer have any compulsion to them, but he finds himself following them just the same. There's something...easy...in not having to think, in trusting that she has his best interest at heart. And if he thinks--

He roughly pulls on his pants and shirt, stepping into his shoes and carrying the rest. He'll want to wash them thoroughly, but he wants to have every inch of skin he can covered until they're alone. The offer to have him somewhere outside the prison tonight is deeply appreciated, but his voice feels gone, so when he's done, he touches the back of her hand gently, nodding at her, before hesitantly slipping his hand against hers, loose enough she can pull away. He feels -- dazed. Like there's cotton in his ears and everything is a little too bright.

Wherever she wants to lead, he'll follow. He's too raw to even question giving her that power over him.