[ It means more than she thinks she could put into words, and she has to glance sideways at him after. He's owed that much, for offering comfort when everything else seems to be slipping away. For a second (only a second, truly, but one that seems to stretch out for much longer), she looks as if she's going to say something, lips parted slightly, pulse thudding, rabbit-like, in her throat... but it passes. Robyn closes her mouth, swallows, and nods vaguely. ]

It's... strange. [ She says, now looking down again at her hands, lacing her fingers together and then glancing downward. Strange isn't exactly the right word, but her mind is a mess of clockwork trying to regain its function and it's more difficult than usual to put language to feeling. ] It can't be changed because it's going to happen, because... it's already happened.

[ In some ways, it's the truth. There is a world gone by where her closest friend lives and she's a decade dead. The Warden adopts an almost stubbornly puzzled expression, chewing on her bottom lip as if trying to figure out the answer to a problem. ]

If I went back and could remember, would I do anything differently? Run away, leave it to the others? [ Her small, faintly exasperated smile suggests not. ] I spoke so much about how nothing is decided for us, that we're the only ones who can make our own way, but if choosing this battle makes all the difference, there isn't another outcome.

[ Again, she looks to the other Warden, bumping shoulders incidentally. ]

Does that make sense?