She’s quiet for a beat, watching the way he breathes, with a tension in her own shoulders that will linger much more than she’d like. Is it ammo if she defends Verso? Ammo if she doesn’t?

“Your father wasn’t like his,” she says. “And nor was mine. We’re both lucky that way. But I’m also not going to judge him if he needs closure he can only get now that it’s over.”