"Oh, no, you didn't just say that," she groans out loud, but the degree to which that phrase amuses her, the ease with which she smiles in response before her mood sinks again and she tampers it back down, is something that surprises her for a beat or two, to the point where she dwells in it longer than maybe she should. She's had every excuse to be carefree here, to avoid anything resembling responsibility aside from the classes she's elected to go to - hell, it's expected to a certain extent. And before, it was rare that she laughed, rare that she even smiled and meant it, even rarer that she experienced a tightness in her chest that she couldn't begin to describe.

She knows he'd be willing to talk this subject into the ground if she gave him an inch, and he'd probably be one of the first people to tell her that she isn't crazy for trying to enjoy herself and for caring, for worrying when the bomb falls and she has to think about where everyone else was standing. Maybe she can trust them. Maybe she can trust all of them. Maybe she's tired of lying. And maybe she's still opening herself up to more pain and disappointment than she's prepared for. Then again, it still beats dying via evisceration.

"Krista," she murmurs, so softly that even she isn't sure she's said it at this point. She flips her hair back over her shoulder, tossing her head slightly to flick more out of her eyes when the breeze starts up again. It's a name that means nothing to her now, but she still wants him to know it.