[ long and fine, her fingers are pale and dainty against his: sun-baked, weapon-callused, break-knuckled. the squeeze is meant a comfort, his other hand resting politely on her shoulder, stalwart where she seems unsteady. he makes up the better part of a foot towering over her, and he serves as broad-shouldered blockade between her and other onlookers, allowing her something like privacy in the moment. ]

Good girl. [ a hapless grin, he gives his head a tug back towards the front of the casino, indicating out a path. ] The bathroom with the best lighting isn't far off. Can you walk?

[ overtly, he's only offering an arm to keep her company, but — ]

I can carry you, if you just want to get there... and then, you can sing for us all. [ fair trade. ]