[While he meant his answer in a different way than Ed has taken it, he stays quiet, letting Ed talk.]

I confess, I am not entirely sure how to approach this... [he crisply splits into some toast, supposing Ed is less likely to eat a whole slice in one go] ...much less when I suffer from demons of my own. But I want to help. [A beat.] I want you to be happy. [He adds, wistfully, his brow wrinkling, as though he had really counted on such deep-seated pain being soothed and healed by simple hand holding and a shared meal.]

...Butter? Jam?

[He might as well dress up Ed's toast, if desired, while he has the butter knife in hand.]