[ A small thrum of tension runs through Neuvillette when the young woman first curls her fingers into the lapels of his robes and takes it a step further by burying her face in his shoulders and letting her tears soak into the fabric; he's still not accustomed to this kind of physical proximity and he isn't sure what to even do. In a sense, it's easier to deal with the occasional creepy stalker when they hug him out of nowhere because the correct response is to immediately disengage and arrest them. This is nothing like that and he must act with a delicate approach.

He takes a deep breath, relaxing somewhat. His hands hover awkwardly over her shoulders for a moment, then puts his arms around her in a loose embrace—one that's easy to pull away from if there is any discomfort. ]

Mortal lives are unfairly cut short, sometimes. [ He whispers, softly. ] ...I don't think there's anything I can say to ease your grief, Mademoiselle, but I will be here for as long as you need it.