She eyes him, looking at the hand that's reaching out toward her. "I don't like this, okay?" she says. "It doesn't make any damn sense." She sets the trays back down on the table, then gestures with the hand that had been holding them. "I don't like knowing you can show back up here and not remember anything from before. I don't like knowing they can take your body and give you another one and just leave it like that." She doesn't like knowing she owes him a goddamn kiss and an 'I love you' and he doesn't even remember why.

She turns to face him more fully, dropping her hand to her side. "I—" She cuts herself off and shakes her head. She's not going to stand here in the fucking mess hall and tell him about the things that happened the first time he was here. She doesn't know whether she's going to tell him about them at all. She ends up choosing to pound her hand into the surface of the table. "Just...don't ask me if I'm okay, okay?"