That the rooms are nearly empty is concerning on its own. Since his arrival, the Inn has always seemed near full to bursting. One of the reasons Maine instantly eschewed the idea of staying in it, even for a single night. Too many people whose motivations he didn't know. Too many strangers whose faces he couldn't trust.

At least he can trust two of those faces, now. Whatever's going on, he's grateful that Wash and Brigitte weren't swept away with all the others.

Maine nods in agreement with Wash; the two of them can survive. Sheer stubbornness could keep them going even if food failed. The two of them wouldn't have made it to the top of Project Freelancer's leaderboard if they were easy to kill.

When Brigitte's voice wavers and she rubs at her face, however, Maine presses his lips together. That's not good. He gets it, he thinks — it looks like relief — but it's not good that she's already feeling strained.

So, seeking to reassure her, Maine reaches out with the intention of patting her firmly (though not too hard) on the shoulder. He considers himself pretty shitty at offering comfort, especially since Wash damn near recoiled from him a few weeks ago. But he likes Brigitte, and they need her at her best. Therefore, he's making an attempt.