[ Her eyes pop just a little; he's the oldest person she's met by far, and not even by a little. She doesn't quite know how to follow that up; he's an alien (to her) over two thousand years old. She has no idea what the next question should be, so she's stalled and then they've moved on, which turns her look of surprise into one of soft thanks. ]

It was difficult, in ways that were...[ Inhaling, she closes her eyes for a moment, briefly remembering the pain and the hurt, the grief that threatened to swallow her whole. Then it's gone, and she squeezes his arm for a brief second before finishing her thought. ]...well, I survived it, and I'll survive this. At least now I know he's waiting for me without worry.

[ She's glad to move on to a different topic, and he seems to adore his ship, so: ]

Your ship isn't just that, you're without your freedom, and I'm guessing that isn't a position you find yourself in often?