[Her shoulders stiffen and the rag which was being pushed in circles stops when he apologizes. She had been listening to his explanation beforehand without looking at him but when he says sorry, it's clear she wasn't expecting that.

Years upon years of being entrapped had made her accustomed to her boundaries being violated. And then it took even more time and the gentle handholding of friends and very few loved ones to come to terms with what had happened to her. What had hurt was that Henry Creel had crossed a line that reminded her of the powerlessness she had despite, ironically, the power she had gained.

But he wouldn't have known that. He wanted to know. And he had acknowledged that he should have asked.

It's a start.

She straightens herself up, the rag twisting between her hands.]

... Thank you.

[There's a brief glance at him before she looks the other way. It feels painfully thorny to make eye contact when she has so many perplexing emotions beneath the surface that she doesn't want to project, not after all those days of pointedly pretending he barely existed in her own space.]

... Tomorrow. I'll be going to the lake first. Someone I know will pick you up. They're trustworthy.