Ilde rests her face in her hands for a few moments in silence, so quiet as she gets a firm grip on her composure - or as firm as she's ever getting, the past few days. Finally, very quietly, "He knows what happened to me. I saw it, I could-- I could tell, he knows and that means he knows what happened afterwards and I don't, and I really--"

She needs to know, but she can't stand the idea of having to ask him. Not now.