She chews her lip for a moment, shifting her weight back and forth before adopting a less confrontational stance, sitting at the table to focus back on her coffee.

"I wouldn't be asking if that hadn't happened," she says. "I wouldn't ever have asked. I mean it's your business to tell me or not. That's always how I've seen it." She passes her hand briefly over her face, no longer tense, now just feeling slumped and tired. "But it's kind of different now. The Rift made me part of it, I guess just cause it loves to fucking jerk us around or something, but... yeah, now I'm curious. Now I'm asking."

She gets back up, heads back into the kitchen and pours another mug of coffee, which she slides over to him, the bourbon sitting on the edge of the table in an open offer.

"That was incredibly fucked up," she says as she retakes her seat. "I hope you realize that. I know you thought you were doing what you had to do, but - you stranded how many people galaxies away from home because it was your only chance to test a theory, Rush, there is no way you could expect rational reactions to that. Come on."

She's looking at him now, almost pleading, desperate to see that he gets this, desperate not to feel like she's about to have to re-evaluate her entire opinion of him.