She feels bad—it's a tragedy far worse for Lauren. She feels selfish additionally for his comfort, not understanding that the mutuality in the situation was more healing than not. She wants to tap back into her stoicism; into her actions. She can't just lay here and cry. But as usual, her pragmatic mind is at odds with her heart. It's just something she really isn't used to.

She takes some scattered breaths, repeating Lauren's words in her head, and she nods, sniffling. Another little sob breaks through, but she seems to be wrestling reigns on her composure. She's able to believe Lauren; he knew Susan so well, of course.

But Annabelle still wants to tell Susan. She wants to pet his hair, kiss his warm face and tell him so, especially if it weirded him out.

"Okay," she manages, nodding again with a curt sniff. She wipes one of her eyes, then throws her arms back around Lauren in full. "Thank you. You're right." She squeezes him, then sounds a little exasperated. "The grief is confusing my logic."