She bit her lip for a second before she nodded, because she's still not asking him for help, he's offering it, and she's taking it, but she didn't ask him, and that's what matters. That's what makes the difference between debt and not, between her owing him and not.

It's not that she thinks he'll hold it over her head, it's that she's been on this slippery slope since day one, this slope that's got these huge thorns at the bottom like sleeping beauty, and everything is making her slip a little more - the bracelet, the drawing, him saving on her, her crying all over him like some sort of mental case - and this, too, him being nice, him offering his shower and showing her around, it's all her sliding further and further into the abyss that's eventually going to chew her up and spit her out, that's going to kill her. And she knows he's going to kill her, but she can't stop herself, and that's why she hesitated, but it's not like she's going to go to dinner looking like some weird soccer mom who really likes black. "Okay," she agrees. "And tomorrow, we decorate and then it's dinner and not a date. Sold."