It all cuts a little too close for her. It would be easier if it wasn't important for either of them. A hundred things spring to mind but nothing finds its way to her lips, so she's left looking at him uncertainly over a couple of sandwiches. There was a time when his persistence flattered her, when she gauged how long she could go before rewarding it in some small way; now, she can't afford to be hopeful.

It would be easier if she didn't know about anything. It'd be easier if she was better at giving up.

It would be easier if the City would send one of them home.

Finally, wearily, she looks away. "There are only so many second chances," she says quietly. Of course, he's never quite understood how many she's given him. Maybe it isn't fair. Nothing ever is, though.

She meets his eyes again, because as much as she'd like to be able to put an end to this that wasn't a dismissal.