What do I do, why are you crying? There was a flash of a memory then, one she had thought was a bad dream - looking up at him from a hospital bed, the scent of blood and gunpowder mixing with her own perfume. Euphemia couldn't remember much before that; it was all a blur. Arriving at the stadium, all that talking...

"Why are you apologizing? It's all right...ssh, you don't have anything to be sorry for." She didn't think before reaching up to brush away the tears from his eyes, murmuring softly and trying to reassure him. "It's okay. I don't think you could do anything I couldn't forgive..."

With one hand, she motioned for someone to bring another tray over, and with the other, she gently led him back to the table where she'd been sitting. She looked down for a moment, biting her lip and looking away. What was it? She thought about the night before, about what had happened in that big central room. If that was it - if he'd found out and was apologizing like this for not being there - then all she needed to do was reassure him that she was all right, no? That she could do.

"If you're upset about not being there when those bats attacked last night, don't be," she said, quietly. "I had someone with me. So really, I was okay. You don't have to worry about that."