The anger fizzles out of her. She's been holding on to it for too long while she waited on him getting here. The initial blaze of it when he first arrives dies down both by her inability to keep it and the sincerity of his apology. She wants to be mad at him, wants to stay mad at him - but she's struggling. He is sorry, he does mean it - but whether she knows he knows about what he's sorry for - is another matter.

Silently, she lets go of him and turns away, putting her hands to her face. She draws a breath, trying to settle herself. "I can't do this."

Wiping furiously at her eyes, she shakes her head. "Having mirrors to talk to yourself is one thing," she tells him, "But using them as a cheater's way out, using them to find things out about me..."

Another shake of her head. "I can't--I can't do it. I can't have it." She's had long enough to mull it over, what it means, what it means to her. "I mean," she turns back to him, gesturing between them. "Does this mean nothing? So... little that you have to cheapen it?"