"..." Desmond sits next to Luna, and before any kind of resistance could take form, he hugs her to him. Both arms wrapped around her, one running its fingers through her hair of its own violation. "I wasn't born yesterday." Desmond whispers softly, his mouth close to her ear, his breath falling on her neck. "Don't you try to put one over on me..." He paused before choosing his words carefully, not wishing to agitate her or something. "I can tell... you're not okay... No one... ever is... when someone dies... It's okay to show some tears, instead of bottling it up." He pressed his face into her shoulder, and despite the deadened steadiness of his voice she felt it dampen lightly.