There's a question that she wants to ask, something between 'how do you know?' and 'first one?' and 'who was your first one, then?', but she doesn't have the capacity to ask it right now. Maybe that's for the best. It comes out as an inquisitive sort of whimper that's no doubt difficult to interpret.

That hug is indeed comforting, and Felicity finds herself relieved to be drawn into it. One hand is still clinging hard to those flowers, but the other grabs onto Torin's coat and holds. She tries to just rest her forehead against him rather than just her face, for her lovely smokey-plum-silver eye makeup is probably running like crazy now. Can't stain his nice suit. Can't.