[ Siegfried doesn't know the right words to say, or if there even are any words that could possibly help her, with how fresh the memories seem to be. So he doesn't say anything. He simply embraces her how he thinks he would have liked to be comforted, in the times that he's lost comrades, men under his charge, friends. While he's honored that she trusts him enough to be vulnerable like this, hurting like this isn't something he wishes on anyone, much less a friend.

He pulls back slightly when Annette does, shaking his head and frowning. ]

Stop apologizing. You deserve to grieve, and it's cruel that you weren't even allowed to pay respects in your home.

[ He'd gotten that closure himself, at least. He falls quiet, then looks around for something to offer her— a tissue, a handkerchief, even a clean napkin. There's a small one underneath their teacups, which he reaches for, and uses it to gently dab at her tear-stained cheek. ]

I'll stay for as long or as little as you want me to. I wish I could do more.