"You know I don't care that you've got traumatic neuroses." She waves a hand, a loose gesture. "I mean, I care, because I care for you. Oh, you know what I mean!" She settles her hand on his wrist, brow furrowed. She'd thought they sorted this out months ago. Perhaps he's just having another moment of neurosis, but... "Do you think I can't handle it if you're not perfectly happy, due to my grief?"