Her hold tightens a little at Adia's words. People have often given her permission to be vulnerable, but she rarely takes it. It always feels wrong or as if she's weak by allowing herself to be that way. But this woman generally cares for her, has seen her at her lowest point and not recoiled at all. She presses her face into Adia's shoulder again, taking a moment to breathe through the tears that can't form in her dry eyes.

"I don't know what to do now," she murmurs, her words muffled by the fabric of Adia's shirt. "I don't know how to bury this. I don't know how to ignore it and I can't move on when he didn't... he was still... a-alive before he was taken away." She exhales a shaky breath, tightening her grip a little too much for a half second before she catches herself and relaxes. Steve is gone now, and given the state he was in before he left? He's not coming back. "This isn't how it was supposed to be. If he's gone than I wish... I wish he'd been allowed to... go..." It would be so much easier that way. Even in following Steve's traditions for a burial, she could have offered the prayers of her world at his grave.

Taking a deep breath, she sits up a little and puts a few inches of distance between herself and Adia. Even if they're not hugging, she feels a strong need to keep this unexpected comfort close. She slowly looks up to meet the other woman's gaze, revealing her red eyes and puffy cheeks. "How do people where you're from handle death?" she asks softly. "Do they have any traditions to honor the fallen?"