Her heart hurts when his hand takes hold of her free arm. She wants to straight up and kiss him, thank him for risking his life, but after the time she spent believing Piaget's lies, she doesn't think she deserves to.

"What were you thinking? You could have gotten really hurt," Aerith's voice is heavy and wobbly with emotion. She doesn't dare to meet his eye and risk sobbing outright. Instead, she focuses on cleaning his wound before the need to touch him wins out, and she pulls her arm free of his hold so that her hand can squeeze his tightly.

"Balthier, I–" She squeaks out a sob when she looks at him, rising to her feet as she shakes her head, dismissing the thought as she circles out of sight to tend to the wound between his shoulders.