( Despite the energy of this place, the way it lifts and bubbles one's mood like a sparkling drink, the upset in Rose can't fully ebb away, not when it involves the matter of her daughter. It's there just under the surface of her — and when he says what he does, her eyes widen a little, glossing just a bit at the corners.

'You are her mother.'

And the words of reassurance, it... it helps. Sometimes she needs it, without ever knowing she does: needs to be told that she's enough, she's done enough. There's always more, and she can't rest, but... simply to hear someone say that they don't doubt her, it... means a great deal. The woman dips her head slightly again for a moment, then looks back up to him. )

Thank you. I'm— I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I felt very— helpless. ( The effects of this place continue to coax the feelings from her, gently. )

She was adopted. I don't think I've told you that yet, but... there was no record of her birth, of her history. So we couldn't know, couldn't... understand how exactly to help her. My husband thought she should be permanently put in an institution to keep her safe, but— I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't let him do that.

( It's there, an anger in her. Quiet, but there. Maybe Christopher was right in his ways, and she might have seemed like a bad mother for what she'd done, but... )

I didn't want her to be... locked up.