Samuel moved to lean against one of the walls, arm propped up on it so that he could thumb at his soul patch as he watched her. Something was very, very wrong here -- it wouldn't have taken someone of Lydia's ability to realize that -- and he wasn't sure if he should prompt her or if it was better to wait until she was ready to say whatever it was she was struggling with. Or if he even wanted to know at all.

Finally deciding on the latter, on waiting, he stood there in silence, eyes fixed on her, brow furrowed.