[Her eyes flick from his face to the bottle and back, a little oh of recognition curling up from her throat as it clicks into place. The stroking of his thumb is a comfort but her hand's been on his face for what feels like a very long time so she lowers it, slowly, keeping hold of his hand as she does.]

Arm's getting tired.

[Not because she doesn't want to be touching him, and she hopes that comes across. Rests her hand on her knee with his on top of it and traces little fingertip circles over his knuckles with her other hand.]

Guess that explains going from one extreme to the other like that. And I'm glad. It's good you got help.

[A pause, then, because even with the minor stuff she sometimes worries he'll mistake concern for pity and have a tantrum, but she's not so worried she won't ask.]

Are you seeing someone?