It's all a bit vague, though she supposes that's no surprise. 'What he went through' - in his own universe, presumably - could mean anything, and all she knows is that his mother was... not as good, or as present, as she could have been. But he's not talking as if he's merely had a bad experience; he's talking about himself as if he has some horrible catching illness. As if he's cursed in ways that have nothing to do with these dratted brambles.

But curses can be broken. And if he's been isolating himself because he assumes he's dangerous, how can he know if he's not? Maybe he's not catching anymore.

"I won't ask you to talk about it," she promises. Even presuming his experiences aren't contagious, she wouldn't want to pry into his business or make him relive anything upsetting. "And I can... try to talk to the Balladeer, as well." She's on much better terms with him, obviously, so maybe that will count for something.

But it's mostly Johnny she's concerned about, and she pauses in her bramble-loosening efforts so she can give him her full attention. "Your heart's in the right place, too, you know," she says. "And I'm not afraid of you." Afraid for him, maybe, but not of him.