"Well, christ, now I don't know." Saturday is still teary-eyed, but now also irritated, mostly at herself. "I mean - shit. I don't. Fuck." Her voice, and throat, are scratchy.

She wants company. She doesn't know this guy. She fought murderous furniture with him That doesn't mean he need to get her emotions dumped on him. She's done that, ill-advisedly, already.

"What good do you think you'd do?" Oh, that came out way meaner than intended.