Greta starts when Iman pauses the movie, both relieved and bereft by the interruption, and then mortified when she realizes why it's happened. "No, it..." this isn't Iman's fault, there's no way either of them could have guessed it would be so familiar, fairy tale or no. She covers Iman's hand with her own, holding it in place for a beat or two as she tries to gather herself.

"It wasn't your fault," she says first, because she won't have her friend blaming herself for this. "You didn't know--you couldn't have known. It just..." she gently pushes Iman's hand off her cheek, but doesn't release it. She just takes it between her own, lowering it into their laps and turning it over between her palms as if it's a puzzle she's trying to solve. "It was just so much like home," she says with a wobbly attempt at a wistful smile. "With the-" she laughs once, heavily, as if someone had thumped their hand against her back and knocked it out of her, "--the singing and all."