Jane breathes out a relieving, "okay," and her eyes never leave the girl.

"Good," she nods once, "Anemone," her voice wraps around the girl's name with a lighter tone that Jane's eased into - a tone mirroring a sort of calm that she hopes will be contagious.

She smooths in closer, her movement discreet but not hesitant.

"Where is the pain, Anemone?"