Hope lowers their hand and does not begin to try to smile. Their expression holds strong under the weight of empathy, but that doesn't mean they don't still feel it. "I'm not the kind of person who should be giving advice on pushing through stuff. I mean, hell, I drop stuff the second I find out I'm no good at it. You can fit so much quit into this stupid little body."

They want to say more; they end the sentence like they should be saying more. But it just doesn't come. They don't know how to follow that with anything encouraging.