She gives a laugh that's devoid of any actual warmth and humor. Maybe he would've given her a better time than the vapid men she's lost herself in over the years, but she likes keeping emotions out of things. She inhales deeply and stares at the alcohol, wishing (not for the first time) that her tolerance wasn't so high.

"You know, they've trapped us here," she says. "Now we're so scared to leave because you'll die and I'll get splintered. So every door could be the wrong one."