He draws himself back with some difficulty, wiping at his face again and muttering quiet apologies for making a scene, the whole thing feeling a lot louder to him than it really was. He feels kind of gross and raw, and he doesn't necessarily realize that yeah, this is the normal "I just cried my eyes out" experience. He's just licking wounds that have been ignored for the most part and hoping that nobody takes any real splash damage.

He sits back with his hands resting loose against her sides, staring blearily into the space between them.

"I'm tired, 'lena. How do you deal with this?"