"Believe me, I've thought about it." She and Maxine have spoken before, but only briefly-- never about anything serious, nothing that happened back in Abel. "But if it's just a campaign to get me to change my mind and write Simon off as a hopeless case, we won't be talking for long. Maybe the fact that you think he's so unrepentantly bad is the reason why he needs me to stick around and be his friend. I've steered worse people back onto the right track-- and you don't change people by abandoning them. You leave them to fester and become the worst versions of themselves. If nobody else wants to give him a chance to try and get it right, then that's fine, but it might be exactly why I have to."

Everyone needs someone in their corner, especially those who want to make the change and set themselves straight. Simon wishes he could undo it, wants to find a way to make things right-- she believes that. She has to, because letting herself come to trust someone again after so long only to find out that she really can't-- no. That's just not an option.

She won't accept it.

She purses her lips slightly as she listens, letting Sam say his piece. He's not wrong. They can't afford to trust easily, not when survival is so touch and go, and she won't argue that. She never would-- but her eyes narrow slightly as something about his explanation touches her somehow, causes her to stiffen, become more guarded.

"Trust me," she says quietly, "I know all about betrayal and how deep it cuts. It's rarely ever black and white-- but I can respect that you're close enough to the situation that it just looks black. I'm not saying you're wrong. I just don't think you're one-hundred-percent right, either." A pause. "There's more to what happened than just seeing people as collateral. He's not heartless."