[She watches his hands mostly as they dance across the keys. She recognizes the song and the story that goes with it. She knows it means a lot to him. They got that boy's mother back which is a lot and practically routine in his work. She thinks what meant more was the connection he felt to the boy. There's something sad, but soothing about the melody and she sits, content to listen.
Back home as the losses piled up she grew more and more stoic and unreadable about them, stopping just short of dismissive. She was never unaffected. They all marked her deeply, but she had walls to keep her going. Keep her armored and strong against whatever came. She had to keep going for those who couldn't. For those who still might. And now behind prison walls—a dome—her own protections have crumbled as she let in new people, experiences, and feelings. It was a life she wasn't prepared for, requiring all new coping mechanism and bringing on so many growing pains.
In her entire life she's never "fit" perfectly anywhere. Too smart for her classmates. Too Jewish for her very neighborhood. Too driven for her age. Too mutant for the humans and too human for the mutants. Too damaged for a paradise inside a prison. But she adapts. She always adapts eventually. It's been over a year now and it's undeniable she's changed, maybe not all for the better, but not all for the worse either. She can cry again and while it's not always welcome and still makes her feel weak at times there is something cathartic about it. And she knows now that just because tears come doesn't mean they'll never stop. At the end of the day she'll still move forward for the ones who can't and for herself.
She reaches up to brush away the tear rolling down her cheek as the song comes to another end and her eyes move from his hands to his face.]