Jag looked less miserable than he felt, which was saying a lot. Relaxing was so far out of the realm of possibility that he nearly responded to the suggestion with anger, but Em's words and the squeeze of her hand stopped him, and he felt terrible all over again. He wasn't even sure what 'it' was that was supposed to be all right, at this stage. Everything felt fucked up, and he was exhausted. He resisted the urge to touch the itchy wound on his neck and fiddled with his rings instead, staring down at his hands in his lap. But even that felt too taxing, and he gave up with a quiet sigh, glancing over at Val, then Em.