The sound of running water loosens a knot in her shoulders that she hadn't noticed (the water in the tank was still and sickly and clean the way that metal is clean and pressed to her skin and made her weak), even if the room without him feels unexpectedly empty, too large for her and too quiet without someone else to echo off.

Without an audience, she's crying again, quietly, and it's funny that she doesn't know why. Almost.