[That's what she expected, and his appearance all but confirms. Sobering. Nothing she can smile at, and any warmth must be limited to strictly cordial. No light could or should be made. Nodding to herself, she takes one step back inside, offering room to enter to simply more space to breathe.]

You did anything that could be expected of you. I'm sorry it-- [how to word it, no, just don't word it,] I'm sorry.

You could come in, if you want. Just to sit, eat something warm - you could get Ivy, or I could just bring them home when they're up? [There's not much she can offer by way of entertainment, but it's less about practicality and more providing a space where he needn't sit through these initial solemn waves alone.]