As she speaks, the redhead does look up at her, giving her more of his attention than before. The droplet falls.

He noticed the look in her eyes, especially the longer she spoke, remembered. Childe frowns, sympathetic. Lucia still seemed troubled by it, bitter. He doesn't blame her, not really. His earlier observations seemed to be right--- She wasn't much of a fighter. And against magic like that, he's not sure if many normal people would be able to escape it on their own, especially if trapped in their own trauma.

The fatuus had his own demons, things that frightened him, things that haunted him. A desire for violence unsated. A need to assure himself that what he went through was normal, a test that he passed. He was perfectly fine, outside of a violent streak. Obviously.

"Maybe so. It wasn't your fault." He thinks that's an okay thing to say. "You did what you could. We don't have to keep talking about it if you'd rather not."

Childe doesn't want her to feel pressured into telling him her traumas while he offered up nothing in return. Of course, there was nothing for him offer. He was fine. Well-adjusted, even.