"Makes sense." Leading the way down the hallways without stopping or touring notes.

In many ways, Jo had none of that for a long time. Growing up in a pile of hunters, lying to other children and adults she interacted with after about the age of four. The bar is big, but it's not that big, and it's more than half to almost never empty, and the years after it, when all she was was alone against the dark, denied even the meager amounts of earlier interaction, doesn't count.

"In here." Jo opens the door to a bedroom Nadine will find is not so much sparse as a little untouched. It's well-made and spotlessly clean. It lacks any personality until you reach the picture of her mother under the bedroom lamp—bright hair and a bright smile, with canny sharp eyes that stand out even through those.