"...what's in the box, Liv?" He knows. He knows that smell underneath Pepper's perfume, it'd been painted on his sinuses when he woke in the tube. Dry and burnt, feathery like paper, powder fine and raw and wrong- clouding the clarity of the diamonds on Pepper's ring.

Ashes.

She's-

It's-

Reaching out isn't a thing he does, doesn't like being handed things, doesn't like the inherent risks but Liv's hand comes up and he can't help but cling, his own grip tight and trembling, eyes locked on the ring in her other hand. "I- right. Sitting that-"

Sitting's a good idea.