Confusion draws her eyebrows down a moment before her expression smooths, sobered. She slants her gaze away, but it isn't guilt that's twisting her gut.

"I was trying to protect you," she replies, sitting back, away from the weight of his hands. "I didn't know if any of it was real and I didn't know what any of it really meant, and you showed up afraid to even open your mouth, talking about massive trauma and having died and being brainwashed, and I was trying to protect you."

She glances down to the vial still held tight in her fingers and then slides it wordlessly into her pocket.