She does witness the shift in his eyes. However brief the flash of change is, she sees it. It's a rather unnerving coloration, as if his eyes were made of fire and blood dancing along a midnight sky. She stares at him for a beat, lifting her chin, and then she's gripping his hand with both of hers.

"You couldn't have known." The words are gentler, patient. Part of her still recoils at the memory of her capture, wishing to claw itself free from beneath her skin. The self-inflicted wounds on her back are but an ache now, jagged and red. "We reside in different cities. That you came at all when I hadn't answered is far more important than could haves and would haves."