She turned toward his answer, toward him, and glanced over her shoulder at Bran when he called out. The distraction was momentary only; in another second, she was looking back at Eric.
He'd answered quickly, certainly, without a shadow of doubt -- and she... She believed him. The right corner of her mouth turned up a little. She believed him, and she trusted him. She'd trust him with this, too.
Her feet took her back to him, quietly, quietly, through the wetness on the street, through the guilt and the self-recrimination. She stopped in front of him and looked up. The rain had washed them both of the night, and she was done with it. With all of it.
"Will you take me back to our home?" she asked, then, and hend out her hand for him.