[ She may consign herself to the ground, fussing over scars, but his words touch on an insecurity that she hasn't gotten around to voicing to anyone. Ignorant is a small, defensible word for a larger issue - that she knows so much less than everyone else, that her world is small and novel, that all her good intentions can't make up for the fact she simply isn't all that clever. He explains to her, quite clearly, why that's wrong.

By now, she knows that Connor isn't someone to hand out false flattery. If it isn't the truth to him, he has no time for it.

And then there are the words he uses. Words that, in the past, she's specifically pointed out his avoidance of. Wish. Feel. It passes by so fluidly that she almost doesn't notice, giving herself a slight case of mental whiplash as her mind hooks onto those words long after they're spoken. ]

If we spend too much time commiserating on our failure, we may forget to pay attention on those who need us now, or will in the future. [ Essentially, she agrees with him, finding comfort in his unthinking human behaviour. ]

Have you spoken to any of your own from home?