[ By the time she knows to be quiet it's often too late. That was her curse in life, or whatever this existence was. There's another whimper as they move, working to keep her feet operating at the pace he was going.

When it wasn't physical, it seemed that he was mentally a step ahead of her. Not that her asking a real for help would've done anything. What could they do? Really? What could they possibly pull off to get her away from this mess that was mostly her own fault? Nothing. She'd made her disaster, it was time to face the music.

She flinches when he shatters the mirror, swallowing hard as she tries to work through the stutter that wants to come out. Something she'd been actively trying to suppress, easier done when not terrified. ]

Fitz, he -- he doesn't like you. D-doesn't like how you seem to run things. He... He's working on a-a way to destroy you.