[...What Amaya would have given, to have this sort of comfort in her childhood. It's...strange, really, the dull thrum of a feeling in her chest that she can't recognize. She knows some of it is envy, though it's an emotion she's quick to discard; he's a child, and an innocent one at that. That leaves worry as an acceptable emotion, but there's something else that's there, that confuses her.

Amaya elects not to think about it, and simply takes the seat offered. She can't smile; she can't truly offer anything other than her usual blank expression, but she can help. If this is enough, to grant this child some reprieve, then she'll do it.

How strange it is, but Amaya finds herself nodding her head a little bit nonetheless.]

...I shall stay for as long as you wish for me to, my child. None shall harm you, and none shall bother you while I am here; of that, you have my word.

[There's her inner woman of faith coming out again... It's strange, to give an oath to a child like this, with so much gravitas, but it's...gentle. An attempt at kindness, no matter how awful it is.]

...Would you like a distraction, perhaps? Or would sitting in silence be quite fine? If it helps you any, I am glad to oblige.