[His laugh breaking the silence has the opposite of what might be its intended effect at first. Andrew feels like he might be patronizing her. What can she do, after all? A sick, cowardly girl who had a person killed for a crime they didn't commit?

Andrew closes her hands on her lap. It fans a brief but instant defiant flame; he's ready to indulge her with his whole chest just as she's ready to detest him with hers.

Then he does say something that sounds like praise, maybe even genuine praise, and maybe it surprises her. She stares at her hands in her lap.]

I miss someone terribly. It's like sitting in a frozen lake all the time without her. If I can't get back to her, then everything I've done to get up to this point will not even matter.