"What? How could you-" and understanding dawns on her face, and she's shaking her head. "It was different. This time, it was different, and-" She licked her lips, and her voice was small, and she looks like she's going to cry but it's not because she's upset. "You tried to help me?"

She goes to him, she can't stop herself from going to him, even though she's still hungry and she put down the glass before she moves, and she touches him with tentative fingers, her nails skimming through his hair, and she's staring down into his eyes. "Thank you." And she bends to kiss him, even though her head is pounding, even though she feels miserable and gross and disgusting and hungry, but she can't stop herself, because he tried, and- and she was overwhelmed by it. That he tried.