She seemed to be calming; that was good. Anger was never a good thing; it wound people up too tight. Smoothing his hand over her back, he gave a soft laugh.

"It's not pity. Is that what you really think I'm about?" he asked, before he was forcing her to look up at him. "I'm not lying. Why would I lie? You're beautiful. You've always been so. Who the hell cares that you've got a few marks on your face. Idiots. That's who. Stupid, idiotic people care. 

"You've got this fierce determination to make things happen. And you're funny. And you're passionate. But you're gorgeous, too. You have to stop thinking otherwise. Whatever it is you're afraid to look at in the mirror, you're missing the best parts. You're missing what I can see right now," he assured her.