"Sedho, sedho," murmurs Aaron, reaching out to put a hand on Julien's head. Outwardly, he's all patience and quiet reassurance. Inside, there's an urge to laugh -- Julien is ungainly, but laughing now would be cruel -- battling a kind of sympathetic horror, a reaction to not what Julien is, but to what it must be like to experience what is happening to Julien now.

"Try again," he says quietly, slowly, making no sudden moves. He'll get his hands under Julien's chin, supporting, helping -- and there to catch him if he freezes up again and drops his head.