She can count on the fingers of one hand now many times in her life she's seen Harrowhark Nonagesimus cry.  It's awful. She hates it.  She hates it more than the weird bleeding.  "I did what I had to do, and then I woke up here." Her jaw tightens and she squeezes Harrow gently.  It feels like the only thing that she knows how to do.  "Let's go inside, okay.  I'll call Sextus.  He'll know what to do."