The time spent in the bathroom involves Kate staring at herself in the mirror. She can fake like she needed to use the toilet or wash her hands or something, but she just can't. She feels the needs to stare at herself, see why she's going around with people who have such big differences in morals than her, people who can do this two times, three times, a hundred, and yet she still likes them. Still feels the need to care for them. It doesn't make sense. These are the people she would railroad for committing crimes but she can't now.

But there's nothing she can find in her blue eyes that fits as an answer. Nothing in this small room of cold tile and grout. Kate opens the door without a hint of ceremony and walks towards the living room, leaning against the doorjamb, watching the ball of legs and arms that is her friend. With this sight Kate can't even judge her, not much anyway.

"Why?"