"You're a good man," Mina says quietly. A good man she feels like she barely knows anymore. She'd like to have the chance to get to know him... and, deep down, she's rather glad he stopped them from proceeding because it felt like a stranger -- like many different strangers -- touching her. And she didn't have the heart to stop him because she'd asked him to, she'd told him to be himself. She doesn't have it in her to reject that sort of vulnerability.

She fetches her hairbrush from the bathroom and returns with it. Climbs carefully into bed and starts brushing her hair out: one hundred strokes every night. It's a routine she's had since childhood and she busies herself with it because she doesn't know what to say to him.