The short answer told Martha that there was more to that particular story, but it also said that he wasn't quite ready to divulge more than he already had. Martha respected that; if there was anything she understood it was keeping the past in the past and attempting to move forward. She didn't press Barry for more details, instead she squeezed his arm in a comforting gesture, and smiled up at him. She really didn't have any words to say at that moment, but she hoped he knew what she was trying to convey.
The subject quickly moved to her story, and she laughed a bit at his question. Her brown eyes twinkled gleefully, the kind of spark that came about when Martha was feeling especially mischievous. In this case she was remembering the torture she inflicted on her brother, despite the fact that she only had one arm to do it. "I milked my injury for all it was worth," she said, quite proud of herself. "He was practically my servant that summer. Getting my drinks, feeding me food. Mother made him do all my chores, too." She laughed a bit more and shook her head.
"And when my bone had healed all the way, I made him believe his room was haunted. I hid a walkie talkie underneath his dresser and every night I transmitted ghost sounds to it from mine. He didn't sleep for weeks!" Just call her Martha Jones, Queen of Pranks, if you please.