When that emotion twists up through his voice she looks at him quick, eyes sharp and narrowed—she waits for him to finish speaking, or at least, to run out of words. "You don't have to explain to me what it's like to have people one day and lose them the next. I get it." Did he forget where she came from? He was there himself, if only for a moment.

She adds, clearing her throat and finding it dislodges that ache. "What I don't get is why you're all so okay with experimenting with lyrium. What if it does something to you, and you can't take that back?"

There is worry, there. Buried deep.