Well, that's... [ she doesn't know what that is. it's hard to see the compliment when elena is too busy trying to work through the discomfort of being known let alone liked, of living, without knowing the people who know her, without knowing this other her.
she puts it out of her mind, shoves it off to the side -- has to. she'll go crazy. whoever this girl was, whoever she was or is, isn't who she is now. her brow furrowed, she looks down, and then back up to sam. ] So we knew each other? We were... friends? [ and yet the burning curiosity, the desire to know everything, is something she can't resist. and maybe it's easier to ask about him than it is to ask about her. ]