"I know him, York. Better than fucking anyone," she says; the hand of the arm hooked around him grasps tight at the material of his coveralls for a moment before she makes herself let go. "I know."

And then she's quiet, for a long moment, besides the sound of her quieter sobs and sniffles that make her feel so pitiful and pathetic.

"...why would you even want to help?" Help her, is the implication. After everything he just saw, after everything she's done, when she still hasn't even given him back his goddamned AI...