[Ben's offer of the bear does not waver or falter until she reaches for it; he does not let go until she has secure hold of it, even if he exhales subtly when she collects it to herself, when she hugs it.

He doesn't let himself hope. It's anathema to whatever relationship they still have, at this point, to assume anything about her is leftover from before. He must learn her anew. He must let her learn him anew.

Ben lowers his arm, neither backs up nor comes closer, his gaze there to catch hers. He reassures her that it's okay, that it's hers, by his lack of protest or forbidding. He does not assume the familiarity of smiling.]

I gave you the knife. For protection, because you will need it here, and wherever you go.

I do. I trust that given the freedom to do so, you will make decisions that are right for you, and that they will not be necessarily harmful to those around you. But I also placed myself in a position to force your hand.

You should defend yourself, if you feel the need to do so, if anyone makes you feel like you should. Others should respect your discomfort, myself included. It will not happen again, nor will I allow others to make you uncomfortable to any degree against your will, as much as I am able to prevent.