[Ah, Naminé knows the look of someone who wants to run - she's seen it on someone else and felt it for herself enough times - but rather than helping with that wished for escape, she feels the need to assuage whatever discomfort might be causing it. She still smiles, but she bows her head slightly, eyes politely on her hands, and says in a gentle voice,]

... Sorry. If that was too much, I mean.

[It seems she thinks she has more to be contrite about than that, however, judging by how somber her tone gets - in direct contradiction to the shape of her mouth.]

I don't-- talk to people very often. [Or she didn't, rather. The change is one she still hasn't adjusted to.] So if I do something wrong, all you have to do is tell me and I'll apologize.