Oh, poor Johnny. She still has no idea what to say to him. Really, there's nothing to say. She knows grief, and she knows loss - mothers, in particular, are lost so often that it can be hard to appreciate the individual tragedy of yet another motherless child - but she doesn't know Johnny's story well enough to know how to soothe this specific ache.

So she holds him, occasionally lifting a hand to cradle the back of his head, smoothing back his hair. He needs this. Maybe not from her, not really, but she's here and she's willing so she'll just have to do. "It's all right," she murmurs quietly - it's not, but it's the tone that matters more than the words, the tone that says 'don't be ashamed' and 'you're safe.'

Even after Johnny's gone quiet, he makes no move to pull away, instead remaining curled against her. So she keeps her arms around him, for as long as he needs.