"That's not good enough," Greta snaps aloud, unthinkingly, before it can occur to her that that's a horrible thing to say. Horrible and useless, too, because they can't undo this. It's not a Curse to break, or something Regan could fix if she just tried harder now, in this moment. 'I'm sorry' won't bring Saoirse back, but nothing else Regan could say would manage that, either.

And while Greta's an old hand at taking out her frustrations on the nearest convenient target -- generally her husband -- snapping at a half-frozen and despondent teenage girl might be a new low.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I'm sorry," she signs, wincing as she slowly approaches the bench. "I'm sorry." She wants to say more, but she's still too flustered to remember the shapes her hands ought to make, so she sits back down next to Regan and curls an arm around her trembling shoulders.