She reaches for her cup, just glances at it. Unfolding her arms doesn't open her up in the least. She fixes him with a long stare, not quite frowning but certainly, obviously in thought. It's not that she doesn't know what she wants to say; she doesn't know how to make him hear it.

"There are limits to how close we can be," she says quietly, after a moment. "To how far I can trust you."

It's surprisingly candid, for her, only because she doubts he'll follow it to the right conclusion.