[ The rage and hurt in her voice pierces him better than any sword ever could, and Peter's hold on her wrist becomes boneless. He's never heard her speak this way, and oh, it hurts, and at first all he can think is What did I do?, and then he thinks about how he never wants to hear that pain in her voice ever again.

For a long moment he's shocked into silence after she sinks to the ground, and he just stands there staring at her. He doesn't know what to do -- of course he doesn't know what to do except upset her, he can't even protect her, and why is he so goddamn useless all the time? -- and he's frozen to the spot.

Then all at once he takes action: he kneels in front of her and gathers her into his arms, resting his cheek against the top of her head. It's awkward, he'll admit, with the way her hands cover her face and the way their knees bump together a little, but it's better than gawking. ]

Please, don't-- It's okay-- [ And it comes out as barely more than a whisper, because he's so damn worried and scared for her. ] Don't-- I'm sorry, okay? I didn't want to upset you. It'll be alright, okay? I'm sorry.