More than anything

Greta snorts quietly, then takes another gulp of whiskey as she considers the idea. Truthfully, she hadn't considered whether she might need time spent alone. If she had, her answer would probably have been a resounding 'no,' if only because she doesn't know what she would do with guaranteed privacy except fall to pieces. Setting aside the more immediate, reactionary reasons for her and Saoirse to cling a bit more tightly than usual, she still appreciates the excuse not to wallow or sulk or indulge any dramatic impulses that the girl's presence supplies.

"I don't know how much good that would do me," she admits, setting down her glass, and then nudging the bottle toward him in implicit invitation. "It's rather useful, having someone to... to hold yourself together for." Not the most elegant phrasing, and she flaps her hand loosely; he'll get what she's driving at.