[her hand settles on the table, limp, wanting, but not driven enough to more earnestly grasp for anything - least of all Yuri, who has as much cause to avoid her touch as anyone! the guilt forms a fresh lump in her throat that she must swallow against, but that does help kickstart a bit more lucidity, to dispel the weary trance she'd settled in in lieu of actual sleep.
no subject
she observes him in silence for a minute or two.
then, quietly:] ...You look tired.