She feels another inappropriate laugh threatening to bubble up out of her. The thought of anyone else in Darrow knowing how she feels is absurd.

Or maybe it isn't. She'd thought Sam's situation was unique -- and it probably is, at least as far as the time-related oddness is concerned -- but he's not the first to lose a partner and find themselves raising a child alone. Jesse had said he'd met several people in similar shape. Given the City's general penchant for awfulness (or is this meant to be a mercy?), maybe there are dozens of people here who don't have anything waiting for them back home.

Her gaze goes from incredulous to assessing, and she wonders with a sudden, desperate curiosity whether this woman really does know.

"You know the feeling?" She doesn't sound like herself. "Just found out you've died, have you?"

She regrets the words even as they're falling out of her, lifting one hand in apology as the other pinches the bridge of her nose. Stupid. "Sorry. I shouldn't have--ugh." She exhales sharply, but there isn't enough oomph behind it for it to become a laugh, or a sob.