Swiftcurrent Creek that gun is loaded, but it's not in my hand

Her conviction flagged when his expression changed. An apology wouldn’t have curbed her ire, but something about seeing Akavir expose his grief rattled her, and shook her free of her stiff stance. 

She didn’t know who Lilitu was, or who she had been to Akavir. As an envious creature she had to wonder, but was not so stricken by Akavir’s grief as to ask outright. He sat. She leaned forward, whiskers still fanned and sniffed at the air between them. 

She sneezed abruptly, and used the motion to spur herself forward, pausing momentarily to give her coat a thorough shake. Her bobbed tail still remained at spine level, but her fur settled down along her shoulders as she moved toward him.

She moved into his space, taking short breaths so she might gather some information from his scent. She licked her lips and bumped her nose against his chin, the corner of his lips, his jaw- hoping to prompt some sort of motion that might show that he was not completely broken. She uttered a low grumble, as empathetic of a sound as she could manage.