[ Her reaction is unguarded: an immediate, defeated exhale, arms shifting to fold across the tops of her knees as she sags forward for the force of it.

Of course it isn't, she mutters, quiet, before shaking her head, speaking louder. ]

Skin contact would give me a direct line into your emotional state. Possibly corrupt it — mess up what you feel, or how you feel it. I don't know for sure. I've haven't tried using it that way, but I know it's there.

If I could use it on myself, I wouldn't have to be here.

[ She shakes her head, taking another breath — deliberate, steadying, measured to the count of seconds. ]

Sorry. I don't know if you should risk it.