She heard him enter the room but couldn't quite bring herself to look up, not when she was crying for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Everything felt off kilter, but when she tired to examine the situation rationally nothing was wrong. At least she didn't feel nauseous anymore, just oddly discontent. His silent, unobtrusive offer to comfort her made her cry a little harder, and she turned on the couch to curl against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

"Sorry," she whispered. John had seen her at her lowest moments and never judged her for them, but this felt so different. There was no reason for her tears besides hormones, and while she knew that was a legitimate reason she just felt so distressingly irrational.