She chances another glance at him as he walks along with her, neither hurt nor startled by his snap. She wishes she could convey she knows what this feels like, or knew, once upon a time maybe, before she'd been diagnosed and learned to be verbal. But to do so without explicit invitation would be quite rude.

"Good," she says instead. She hesitates again, her fingers fiddling unconsciously with her skirt, twisting her hands together. "I'm going to take you to the edge of the park and tell you how to get to the ROMAC offices, or I could take you there."

She chews her lip momentarily, then adds, "We don't have to keep talking if you don't want."