Iris didn't notice anyone coming up to her until the boots stopped so close and the voice slid its way past her own sobbing. With a hiccup to try to stop the sounds being torn from her chest, she lifted wet, red eyes to the person crouched near her. The accent wasn't quite right, but it was so sweetly southern and pulled back her own memories of the people that had taken care of her for the past few years. It wasn't enough to completely banish the clinging tatters of the memory, but it did push back the lingering want to hurt someone. Instead, she shook at the amount of hate she still felt, her arms still wrapped around her stomach, nails starting to cut red curves above her elbows.
"No," she managed, barely a whisper and a shaky one at that.