Oh, god. It's good that the Balladeer interjects as he does, because there's no response to that Iman could come up with that would be remotely productive. Her lips tighten into a thin line and she reaches out to clutch Greta's hand, waiting for her answer.

She understands the sentiment behind it. The idea of being gone altogether might seem more comforting than having to live with the knowledge that you are completely without home.

There is so much she could say, wants to say, if things were different. That any life is better than none; that Greta is strong and she will recover from this upheaval even if that seems impossible now; that she has made all of this worth it; that as long as she has a say in the proceedings, Iman will never, ever leave her behind, no matter what.

She can't say any of this. She just rests her head gently against Greta's shoulder.