[ frankly, she'd prefer it to the haunting dinners that'd been shared at thorn hill. a table elongated as if to exclude the potential for chatting, distancing an already broken family ever further. eventually, she had stopped coming to dinner, allowing her parents to eat at each end in silence.

even alongside his words, it doesn't pass her how his fingers maneuver themselves within the cast, more a means of allowing a bit more circulation— warmth to ease back to the digits, than in efforts to comfort them. the slightest furrow takes to her brows, and while the smile on her lips is present, there's a sadness there. the suggestion of tomorrow night: could she truly believe this wasn't a matter of pity? empathy, even?

she'd walked out onto that ice with the intent to end it all. to join her brother. archie was a good guy, and with all everyone's lost, his dad in the hospital... it wouldn't be off base to assume he was merely sympathizing. helping someone while he still could. a means not to feel so helpless, and she was a classic case. ]   I didn't realize this was turning into a hotel service, Andrews.  

[ an attempt at lightness, and despite how own hands ache to curl around his palm, still boasting of the frigid air outdoors, she refrains. ]   Really I— ... I appreciate it, but I don't want to overstay my welcome.