[Ray lingers at the door for as long as he can, uncertain of where he needs to be for his partner at this time. Too close and he may risk invasion or spooking, but too far and he might come off as afraid or uncaring. He was no good at this stuff. He'd been brought up with his dad always avoiding talk of 'feelings' and so Ray had felt painfully unskilled in that department. Insanity was a different sort of thing, granted, but Fraser's obvious distress and fear was difficult to process on any level that he was used to. God, Ray had barely ever seen such a flood of emotion, even in the times he'd delivered tragic news.

Perhaps losing yourself really was more distressing than losing a loved one.

He shuts the door as requested and moves a few steps further inside, lingering as he watches his friend, brows creased and heart knotting inside his chest out of sheer helplessness. What was he supposed to do? What could he do that would offer any sort of reassurance or solve the problem at hand? It doesn't make him feel any better when he hears mention of the theatre and Hamlet and... Geoffrey? None of that seems like the history Benton's discussed in the past.

Ray hesitates, lingering on his feet just a few seconds longer before he makes his move, stepping over towards the bed to perch on the edge beside his friend, reaching a hand down to rest at the shoulder below him.]

You're not uh--

Your name is Benton. Benton Fraser?

[Maybe he shouldn't be saying all this. Maybe he should leave Fraser to work it out himself. But he hates seeing his friend so clueless.]

I know you kinda dig the theatre well enough, dunno about years of it though. And uh, your time in the crazy bin was just undercover work. No swans.

[He squeezes just a little harder against the shoulder under his grip.]

It's fine, buddy. You'll be okay. We got this.