The touch of her fingers against his might provide an adequate reason not to go. She's taken a step forward, the action not-quite automatic, but close. "Please..." She doesn't want to beg. It demeans her in a way that few who have not been born immortal can understand, but it seems that the rules keep turning themselves upside down with him.

"You're here, under your own volition. We will talk and--" Then drops his hand, as if only now realizing she clung. "I'm sorry."