He startles a little at the touch. But then he realizes who it is. Then his hand turns, opens, and he shows her what he's holding. That little frog she gave him. It's tucked away in his breast pocket before he takes that now empty blue hand to wrap around hers.

Just replacing what's a reminder of someone with something real and breathing and warm and astoundingly alive.

"Don't look at 'em if you can help it. That's what happens when people get shoved out an airlock. Not that I think you got some kinda weak constitution or nothin', but what we're lookin' at? That ain't those men. That ain't how they were in life. They were full of energy, of color. You don't need to see 'em like that."

He tries to push past them, past that damned chair, kicking the restraints out of the way aggressively as he goes.