[ Ah, man. She was bad at this. But there's no right thing to say; what's appreciated is the effort. The fact that she hasn't just left him to the wolves yet. For a girl like her these sorts of emotions were probably awkward, and while he can't bring himself to stop because of it, there's a distant awareness that she's sitting through it anyway.

So, he's still furious. Will keep being furious. For the moment, though, he reaches for Armin's hands, a chill running down his spine at the texture of his skin, the frigidness of it, gripping them tight all the same. ] Don't force yourself, Mina. [ Neither of them needed the senseless condolences that came with these things. There's something sharp and pained to his grated tone and he's still crying, but the will behind it is steeled over. ] You'll help me kill who did this. That's what's important.

[ Because that's what friends like them did, right? It takes him several more beats to recover enough to speak again, but he finally reaches up with his other hand to swipe angrily at the tears, mind swirling around her question. He's not great at shifting and the benefits that came with it— even if his body would kick in automatically when it needed to, it's still hard to heal up any injuries at will. Especially not after his powers were yanked away for a week. His eyes barely shift from Armin's face to the unraveling bandages on his arms, bitemarks peeking through them. They hardly seemed important, but, ] They're... [ Hm. He brings his palm to his mouth, bringing his teeth down hard enough to show an indent to illustrate his point. ] mine. Kinda like your earrings. Nothin' big.

[ Which is easy enough to say when you're sitting over your friend's corpse. ]