[ Even for someone as oblivious as Dokja, the signs are too glaringly apparent to go unnoticed for long. He spots the way she flinches, the waver in her voice, the wet shine to her eyes, and Dokja's heart sinks. This is learned behavior, much of it recognizable from personal experience. He decides to stop pressing the issue, her explanation enough for him, and instead, Dokja smiles softly.

They haven't known each other long, a kept distance that Dokja likes to maintain with others, but they've spoken to each other enough that he thinks a hint of familiarity rests between them. So when he slowly lifts a hand to place it gently atop her head, he hopes he isn't going too far. ]

If I say it enough times, you'll eventually have to believe me, right? You're not troubling anyone, especially not me.

[ His concerned gaze lingers on her for just a moment, questions behind his eyes at seeing her react in this way, but choosing not to voice them out loud. It's not his place to pry, only offer what solutions he can think of. ]

We'll leave this door open, but why don't we hang a blanket over the doorway for privacy?