The intel. Not the method.

[ She feels as though there should be something more that she could do for him. He's breaking quietly and that- that is her trick. That's her set of issues that she needs to tend to. Even before he'd been Alpha he'd been stable enough- at least going back through the three years worth of data she had on him. This is new. This isn't anything she knows how to predict- but she knows what she'd wanted when she'd felt like she was about to fall from a clip.

Juliett slides her other arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close, resting her cheek on top of his head. It's a tense, uneasy thing for a moment before she relaxes enough to soften and mold herself into the hard spaces left by his body. Makes a comfort of herself in a strange way that she's not at all comfortable with or suited to- but he needs this. Athos, not Alpha, needs this from her. And as she's ripped these stitches open the least she can do is be the one to sew them closed. ]

You won't. You aren't. And if you do? I'll send you my slinky little Redhead to kiss you better.