"Fuck. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean it. All right? I want you to fucking well eat something, but I won't make...you're not a prisoner." He pushes his fringe off his forehead with one hand, fingers shoving through his white-blonde hair, and his eyes lock to hers. He stares up at her steadily, and earnest. "You don't have to be afraid I'm going to hurt you...a-again." It sounds like the last word is dragged out of him, and his eyes slide from hers to the table, shame weighing his shoulders and making his mouth turn down a little.