[The hand does twitch, flinches under her grasp, but Newton at least looks a little relieved when he realizes she'd been offering him some level of compassion. Maybe it's just as foolish that he lifts his hand out from under hers and lays it over hers instead, like he'd done all those months ago... but some part of him is desperate for touch after what they'd made him feel.

All those months, feeling like someone's hand on him was disgusting, like it was burning him or contaminating him; all that time he'd thought something was wrong with him, and it was just... them, infecting every good thing in his life. He owed Clara so many apologies, for all the times he shrugged off her gentle grasp.]

I'm... I'm gonna make it up to you. To everyone. I swear.

[Biting his lip, he squeezes her hand, hoping she doesn't feel quietly disgusted as he once had by this tactile need to reach out, to feel someone else alive. Looking around the small curtained area, he looks a little lost.]

I just need a little more time to, um... to think about it all. I guess.

There's a lot to think about. But I'll fix this. I can fix it.