She listened to his words and was surprised to find her eyes growing wet. Nothing so impressive as tears, but Sweeney could likely see her black lashes growing damp if he looked hard enough. She smiled to herself, feeling immensely grateful that there was a man who understood her so perfectly. She almost felt guilty for what she'd done to the world before - effectively ending it - and she vowed not to do so as long as Sweeney was in it.
Her bare feet made no sound as she followed him into the kitchen, taking one of the cups and inhaling its contents, eyes closed. As she took it plain, she followed him back to the living room, settling down on the couch and crossing her legs at the ankle before she took a sip. "I can handle pain. I go to a place in my mind, a place where there's nothing but myself, and I ... I don't know, I subsume it." She took a sip of her tea, remembering how good drinking had felt once she'd been brought back to life. Thirty years in a well had changed her, and she no longer took anything for granted. "I'd like that. Very much."