She was uninjured. That was fact. But he had asked if everything was alright, and she had only seen fit to answer in that way. And now he would question her, when others would leave her alone, as if he wanted to understand instead of merely change and shape her, and--

And she was tired. So tired. Perhaps she wouldn't have opened herself to a query if she wasn't, perhaps she would not allowed this opening, but it still remained, and Ayanami-- "To do what my purpose requires," she said quietly, after a pause. And still clear, she added, "And I do not know what that purpose is here. Those that might have told me," could have requested it, as one to another, "are gone now. All of them." Was that it? It could not be so simple. And yet--

It was fact and truth. Movement without motion was becoming too lacking for her as she remained.