Her eyes narrow at his response; he's being purposefully vague, she can feel the hesitation dripping off of his words. Can hear it in the unsteadiness of his tone. There's no part of him that willing trusts him, not if he's going to continually dodge and elude her questions by avoiding direct answers. She takes another step forward, her fevered eyes trying their hardest to focus but mostly unable to do so; they're red-rimmed, gaze unrelenting, and there's a tremor in her fingers she can't quite shake no matter how hard she tries.

"Helping? Vague answer. Helping whom?"