"Hiding?" Alarmed, he sits up a little straiter in his chair, his fingers briefly stop moving enough to dig into his knees, like he's half expecting a shock to come with that accusation. When it doesn't, his posture relaxes with an exasperated sigh, trading panic for genuine confusion.

Swallowing, he tries to carefully pick his words, hands dislodging from his knees to busily put emphasis to them.

"Not to add to those hurt feelings or step on your toes Ma'am, but I just didn't really understand your instructions. Not that they're bad instructions! It's just not really what I'm used to. I'm not trying to obfuscate. I guess, I just don't understand what you want from me or what you want me to get out of this grief counseling."