She nods. It's not the knowing that had bothered her, not when Jack and Rapunzel and Cinderella had their stories told and retold over the centuries. It would've been worse if they'd somehow fallen through the cracks and been entirely forgotten. Or that's what she would have insisted, back when she was just nursing her wounded pride over being edited out of the narrative.

Now, she's not so sure. There might be some comfort in knowing her family is safe, that the children are all right, but it's all laced with bitterness. She'll never share in that triumph of defeating the Giant, or enjoy the well-earned Happily Ever After. Instead, she's here, living on borrowed time until Darrow tires of her. Maybe bringing her here was a rare moment of mercy on the city's part, but she still wouldn't characterize Darrow as kind, and she doesn't trust it to do her any more favors.

But there's something terribly endearing about Marius's awkward question, and she lets out a single, damp, and slightly incredulous huff of laughter. "Oh, I--yes, of course." It might be a little weird with her still sitting in the chair, though, so she braces a hand on the table and pushes herself upright. When he puts his arms around her, she leans against him gratefully, her forehead resting on his shoulder. "Thank you," she adds, her voice a bit muffled.