Oh, dear. She frowns when he nudges her hand away, and then has to suppress a gasp when his scars are revealed. What's happened to him? The poor boy. Greta presses her lips together and resolutely tears her gaze away from his arms when he speaks to her, focusing on his face, instead.

Honestly, she didn't get a very good look at his attacker, and she's not sure she would recognize him if she saw him in the light of day. But she nods anyway. "I promise."

Johnny turns away from her, as if ashamed, shivering visibly in the bright sunshine. Once again, she doesn't think - ever since he dropped her hand, he's been shaking her off every time she touched him, so why would things be different, now? - she just can't stand to watch him sit there and tremble like a kicked puppy. So she scoots close enough to wrap an arm around his hunched shoulders. He feels too warm - does it sicken him, making doors in dreams? - and she gives his shoulder a brisk little rub and tsks under her breath. This really has been a far greater ordeal than she wanted - especially when all he was trying to do was help her.