They're thanking her, for trusting them. This child, who'd rather die again than admit a vulnerability, who'll bare their razor-sharp smile and wit at anyone who looks at them funny, who puts so much of their willpower into being closed off and untouchable that the exhaustion of it is enough to make two people wanna sleep for a hundred years, they're thanking her for trusting them. It's so buck wild she's quiet for a second, one ear briefly turning back in surprise.

But it may also be one of the best things she's ever heard. It means they don't regret it. It means, despite exposing their own pain and feeling hers, it was-- worthwhile. It was good. She knows exactly how she feels about that. Her ears sink to a comfortable angle, and she smiles.

"Thank you for showing me." Now, with just a little distance to the overwhelming rush of horrors and misery, she can say that with certainty, too. They gave her something that hurt, so much, but something that is precious. They gave her understanding. A comfort, a confidant that she didn't know was possible. Her voice is soft, full of affection, like she's holding this moment with velvet gloves.

"It's-- it means a lot to me. Like you." In this moment, knowing her soul, she thinks they might even have to believe that.