She half-expects the other woman to just walk away. God knows she wouldn't blame her. It's one thing to help a stranger in obvious need, and another to tolerate undeserved snappishness. If the roles were reversed, she knows it wouldn't be enough to put her off -- she's always been stubborn -- but knowing she could take it doesn't excuse dishing it out. Especially to someone who's trying so hard to be nice.

"No, it's--I'm sorry," Greta says again, letting her hands drop. The offer to stand next to her is somehow all the more touching for its absurdity. The last thing she wants to do is stand here, with or without company, but this woman's apparent willingness to do just that is unexpectedly kind. "If... if you wouldn't mind walking with me, I'd appreciate that very much."

There, see, she hasn't entirely misplaced her manners. "I'm Greta," she adds, hesitantly offering her hand. A proper introduction feels absurd, too, and part of her wants to forego it. Maybe it would be better if they didn't know each other's names; once she's seen to her apartment, they could both get on with pretending this whole thing never happened. But she's already been rude, and she has enough to worry about without adding more of that to the mix.