"That's good." Thérèse watched the world go by out of the window, the beads clutched tight to her chest. She fingered them absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting. To her, faith was all she had left. Faith in God, faith that things would be alright... faith in Christopher. She had faith in Christopher. She believed he would keep her safe.
After a few moments of silence, she turned to him. "Why are you melancholy?" There was something in a grieving widow that could sense the grief in others. She'd noticed, just momentarily, his little flash of emotion outside the carriage, but had deemed it not her place to ask. But curiosity had gotten the better of her. "What emotions are you hiding from the world?"