[Even though this is one of the few things she thinks she's pretty good at, she still can't help but be a little nervous in the moments between the last line of the poem and Alex's response. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do. Maybe it didn't make any sense to him. Maybe it didn't help at all and she's just made a total idiot of herself.

But, blessedly, it seems that none of those things are true. Her smile becomes a little brighter as her embrace relaxes, and she pulls back enough to look down at his face. One hand lifts from his shoulder—and hesitates slightly, but the trepidation passes and she wipes the tears from one of his cheeks with a delicate sweep of her thumb.] You're my friend! I know there's not much I can do about... [A slight tilt of her head in the direction that her eyes avert, the corners of her expression becoming more somber.] ...all the bad stuff inside your head.

But I'm here for you. And I've always got a poem if you need one, okay? Promise.