Luna watches him carefully, something processing within him that seems to bow him under its pressure. Despite her own tears prickling at her eyes, the surprise of it softens something in her — it's kind of complicated loss, but a loss nevertheless. She doesn't understand the gesture, but she understands enough in her own way. His tears, how his hand moves about his chest, over his heart.

It feels almost rude, intrusive on someone's hurt when they're much of a stranger. But here they are. And there's a need to comfort over that, even with her own grief over John's loss. She returns the notebook, waits patiently while he writes. There's a glimmer of curious interest in him learning about magic in her expression, her mouth drawn for a moment at the rest: it's not needed, he doesn't need to trade just to stay here. But maybe he doesn't want to stay here without some kind of exchange.

Luna wipes at her own eyes with the heel of her hand and nods. Alright. Tucking the notebook under her arm for a moment, she reaches carefully to try and take his hand, if he'll let her. With her other hand, she raises it in a silent thumbs up gesture, offering him a watery smile. They can figure something out.

Then: If you want to keep learning, maybe I can help. John's magic is different to mine. But maybe we can work something out.