The half-elf nods slowly at the staff's offer, but it wasn't Najaran who answered, so he's far more hesitant at first. He sits, delicately, next to her, shifting his weight in a slow, gentle movement, until he's settled by her side, still wary of doing something wrong. The pull at her shoulder is soft at first, a careful hand to guide her to snuggle against him, where she may cry all the tears that he's burdened her with.

His touch is always gradual, a gentle tiny contact at first, gradually, slowly growing stronger. Softly, he rubs circles across her shoulders, and, after a hushed, quiet moment, he shifts, both because he cannot sit still for more than a minute, and because he hopes Najaran might glean some comfort, some grounding from the tiny side-to-side swaying.