That's maybe not quite a question she was prepared for - even if maybe she should have been. It leaves her silent for a moment, watching him, as if she's trying to discern whether it's good or bad news, just from watching his face. His tics. His lack of them.

But then she seems to realize she's doing it, and she sighs. "I feel like I should say yes," she finally admits, quietly. "But I think the real answer is no."

Knowing is a burden that she isn't sure she can live under. For better or for worse.

"Unless you genuinely think there's something I need to know," she adds. "But I don't think you'd ask, if that was the case." And even then, "I think I need to make my own decisions. I can't let something else make them for me."