One of the things that had shocked Remus more than anything about his reveal to the town that he was a werewolf was how overwhelmingly concerned people were. Not for themselves, but for Remus and trying to figure out what they could do. Of course there were questions about what they could do to protect themselves and the people the cared about; that was totally understandable and Remus even encouraged it. But they wanted to know how the could do it without hurting him. Others had asked directly what they could do to help keep him safe, what they could do to stop him from hurting himself. No one had been accusatory or angry, no one had shunned him or told him he was a monster. Those negative thoughts had only been from Remus' own mind.
And here was Nebula, someone who had more right than anyone else in town to call for the town to rally with pitchforks and fire, but instead she was stating that her condition toward feeling better was to be able to help him in the future. She didn't want anything else. Not to take a well deserved shot at Remus, or to yell at him for what had happened. She wanted to help him. He was awed, touched. It was so unlike anything he thought he'd receive.
"You are incredibly kind, Miss Nebula," he said. "You had my admiration and utmost respect. And my gratitude. I have only known a very select few who would want to help someone like me. I wish I could do more to show you that." Remus wondered how much literature Nebula had read; or if that was something she might like. He'd inquire about that another time, perhaps. "I wonder, if perhaps we could also see each other under not so dire circumstances moving forward. Help each other continue to be better."