She dips her head to avoid his eyes when he lets go of her hand, leaning down awkwardly to crawl into the cab. She doesn't answer any of his remarks. None of them are a comfort. What use is she like this? What possible workarounds are there.

This is not the place for that conversation.

She curls up against the window, staring dully out as the scenery moves by, the driver delivering them back to Greta's building.