[Paul observes Sayo's attempt at amends from a remove of only one step, his fierce expression softening to one of reserved patience as she unfolds this new version of her story. He nods, here and there, a slight incline of acknowledgment for this fact and that explanation. The only reaction not of a piece with his composure is the twitch at the corner of his mouth when she calls herself a horrid, spiteful creature, a gleam of something not wholly kind in his eyes when he tilts his head.

Then Kaworu steps forward, and Paul expects nothing in particular, so there's no surprise to ripple through him at his offer of grace to the volatile girl in front of them.]

Kaworu is right.

[The undercurrent of precisely calibrated coldness in the gentle tones of his sympathy is gone as if it wasn't there to begin with, leaving only the brush of compassion. Paul softens with the words, sadness-tinged warmth thawing his gaze as he sets a hand on Kaworu's shoulder and, in the same moment, offers his other alongside the angel's to Sayo.]

It wasn't your fault. [He looks to Kaworu.] It wasn't yours, either. Don't hate him for thinking you were worth saving. That you are worth saving.

And I care what happens to you. [A flicker of something deeper, blood-soaked, before he returns to Sayo, composed once more.] We can bring him back, together. I know that we can.