Her hands sat neatly folded on her lap, the fingers curling slightly inward that the observant eye would recognize as something almost protective.

"But you got it out, Jack? The bomb? You got it out?"

The idea that he was sitting before her now should have presented Reinette with her answer. But Reinette knew that was hardly enough. And something in Jack's gaze? Not now, of course. But when they walked or spoke or when night fell? Something in the darker, deeper corners gave her an answer she did not want to consider.

Still, she asked all the same.

It was all rather ridiculously naive.

"Not those people," she finally amended. "I am not one of them."