Omega lets her go only when she sits, but doesn't immediately join her; he's found it's best, these days, to let her make herself comfortable and then gauge after that just where he'll fit best, to be a comfort but not a disturbance. It's more public out here than he'd like, even without anyone actually around, but the only reason they're even here is to give her a chance to breathe. That much seems to be working.

But finally he foregoes sitting altogether for the sake of crouching down in front of her, and he pries one of her hands away from the edge of the bench to grip it in his own, resting on her lap. His actual response comes with a trace of wryness.

"It happens," he informs her bluntly. "It's not your fault." All right, maybe it's not entirely Echo's fault either, but like hell is Omega going to waste any time on that right now. "And you had a good reason."