Abigail knows she has no right to feel relieved when Bela reassures her she thinks people are wrong. Bela doesn't have all the information, or even a small percentage of it. If she did, she might not be so quick to reassure. Just because Abigail hasn't given the indications, doesn't mean the indications don't exist. Bela doesn't know about her father, about Nick Boyle, about any of it.

Yet, logic aside, Abigail does feel better. It's not much, not nearly enough to slake the thirst for forgiveness and acceptance that has been keeping her up and making her restless these last few days - but it's something.

"But people who shouldn't judge still do. All the time." Then, belatedly, and more quietly. "Thanks."

Abigail fiddles with the cuffs of her sleeves, staring at them and wondering if she should let Bela go, if the other woman feels some kind of obligation to stay and speak with her when she'd probably rather be heading to sleep. Abigail is quick to suspect obligation; most of the people she knows these days feel obligated to help her or care for her, except for the ones who just want to get something out of her.

Ultimately, selfish though it might be, she decides to keep talking. "Like what?" There's a faint kind of hope in the way Abigail asks. "Just... stealing? Because that's not that bad if you ask me."