Nathaniel crouched slowly beside her, lowering himself to her eye level with a care he rarely extended to anyone, business partner or otherwise. Up close, the details of her condition became even harder to absorb — the threadbare grey dress, clearly meant for a much warmer season, the raw redness of her small hands from what must have been hours in the cold.
She flinched slightly at his sudden proximity, curling tighter around the bread in her hands as though expecting it to be taken from her. Nathaniel raised both palms slowly, an instinctive gesture of reassurance.
"It's all right," he said quietly, pitching his voice beneath the orchestra's festive melody. "I'm not going to take that from you."
She studied him for a long moment, tear tracks visible through the soot on her cheeks, before cautiously relaxing her grip just slightly. She took another small bite, chewing carefully, as though rationing even the act of eating itself.
Nathaniel remained crouched beside her, watching the gap between his own world and hers stretch out with an intensity he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. Behind them, the party continued exactly as it had — laughter, clinking glasses, an orchestra playing music no one in this specific corner of the room could properly hear over the sound of their own careful chewing.