Abby nods, in lieu of saying anything. There's a coppery taste in her mouth, blood-like and familiar, the tang that accompanies clenching her jaw for too long. She tries to relax, but she has to be actively thinking about it to do it. That's impossible with Ellie sitting there on her bed not saying anything and staring hard at a thread, picking. She probably wishes she could do that to Abby. Pluck her out, and toss her away.

Time for her to go.

"Ellie." It slips out, quiet and thoughtless. Abby furrows her brow, grasping at loose ends.

"Thanks," is what she settles on, "For- talking."

It's not easy, but they're doing it. They're making space for it to happen, that isn't nothing.