Annie's right, Bertolt doesn't like touching other people, or being touched himself, with Reiner being the only exception to the rule. One of the legacies of their hometown, besides the ability to grow fifty eight meters all at once and crushing guilt, is his hesitancy and downright reluctance towards physical contact. But she'd helped him when he was almost falling, and it hadn't hurt, or left a sick, ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach, so he returned the favor when he thought she needed it.

It's easy to forget that Bertolt is there sometimes; he has a tendency to fade into the background, a skill he's cultivated and practiced over the years. However, he's always watching, keeping quiet tabs on everything, and even in the depths of his exhaustion, he can tell things are getting too intense in here. Something needs to defuse the situation, before it got too painful for all of them… it might already be too painful for Annie, but there's nothing he can do to help her now, except stop it from getting worse.

He sighs, quietly, and starts slithering forward, like he's going to fall right off the couch. It's easy, once he gets started and gravity claims him, and if they don't catch him, he's going to face-plant right on the floor, and he won't even care.