It's almost worse seeing him now, with none of the empty defiance or hostility, just Seth and his tremoring, palpable terror and anxiety and panic. There's no reservation here, no barriers or avoidance or fronts for anyone's benefit, just naked dread and paranoia.

And relief. That's the important thing.

"I'm sorry," Daniel can say it aloud, whispered and horrified. "God, I - I'm gonna try and get you out, I promise, I, I don't even know how I - god, I'm so sorry."

He has to fight to keep it at a whisper, but even if his voice breaks by the second apology the volume never peaks. There is no way to transcribe all of it into words, even a linguist can recognize the limitations of human speech, and there wouldn't be enough time regardless. Going on like this in a futile attempt to console him verbally won't help, so he falls silent and reaches out with a discreet hand to grasp at one of Seth's, masking the motion as he shifts his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet. He just - needs for Seth to have tactility that isn't forced power transferals or blunt force trauma or whatever else he's been subjected to here.