He wishes Grayson had stumbled upon you instead. Tim, Jason, Duke, Stephanie- really anyone but him. But instead, in a move that would be made Mother weep in shame, he'd bumped into the counter while backing out of the room which alerted you to his presence. He could still back out of the room while maintaining eye contact as he currently was, but he believed that might earn him someone's scorn if you told anyone.

So instead, he'd moved stiffly, his movements begrudging as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. You were still bruised and battered, fatigue still working its way through your body as you mulled over the day's events. He can't be sure if you're ready to cry, or if the beating you endured simply messed with your facial nerves.

Father comforts him occasionally. Or at least attempts to. Though it's still not easy to emulate that kind of behavior for you. Mother had comforted him a few times, and while he's sure Grandfather would scold him for it, those memories are still some of his favorites.

But he shouldn't need to coddle you. You're part of this family, so you shouldn't need to scamper off to your room and lick your wounds like a small child. He doesn't think him coming by and encouraging that behavior is going to help anyone, least of all, you.

But now he's just staring at the floor as he hears you try to level your breathing. So with a sigh he speaks up. "Are you alright? Aside from the physical injuries?"