He has every right to ask, but it only makes her scowl at first, because it only makes her remember.

All she had left. All she'd managed to keep. From home. From Milliways. From the Apocalypse. It's gone. Gone, fucking gone, fucking gone. Her Dad, and River, and Jack. It feels less like they took things from her, and more like there are jagged shotgun holes in her chest. But it's not blood and grief filling them in. It's blistering rage, mounting each time she remembers again. Each detail. Each day. Each never.

She can't let herself think about The Roadhouse. She can't go there yet. She just says, "Don't know." Beat. "Gone."

"And whoever the hell decided that was a good decision? Along with the rest of this crap?"

Her teeth nearly meet, nearly snap. "He's going to have a lot to answer for."