“Emilie does,” she confirms for him. Or did. Torrie doesn’t know where she is now. Doesn’t want to know. If she’s not feeding people to dogs then Torrie has less of a reason to worry that they’ll occupy the same space. Her recent encounter with Ezra was quite enough of the Galloway siblings to last her awhile.
There is a pinch to her features once she knows she’s being sized up, and Torrie swallows the litany of ‘I’m fines’ that she wants to let loose on her brother, lets him look and only sighs a little. She’s seen better days and she knows it; no matter how much she wants to act like she’s okay she knows her features tell a different story to those that are looking closely enough. There isn’t even a roll to her eyes at the familiar words, at his concern. She likes knowing he cares, but no matter how much her silly heart wants to tell him she’ll pack the things she cares about and walk back out that subway entrance with him, her less sentimental brain knows she can’t.
The tunnels are a cage to her, the door’s open, but she can’t leave for good. “I know, I can’t.” Four words, with all the declaration of someone that isn’t going to do what’s been offered, no matter how much she wishes she could. She wishes that he wasn’t braced for her no, but the reasons she left the medical center haven’t disappeared with time. “The gun still goes with me everywhere when I’m not in here,” she adds, this time with a small eyeroll. Like she would be stupid enough to trade her only firearm.
“Did you already find her?” Jo she means. She’s betting he hasn’t, would be upset if he had, but she asked anyway.