She's always, always told him to be honest with her, from day one. It's one of the things she respects most about Lincoln. But in this instant, she wishes he wouldn't be so truthful. She wishes that his answer were something different. Because even the slightest bit of pain caused by her -- caused by her against her will and without her having anything to do with it -- pains her. It makes her angry, at the city, mostly, but irrationally, too, at herself.

"I'm sorry," she says, dropping her head. "I'm not that way anymore, Lincoln. You know that. I would never say those things anymore. I just-- What can I do to make this up to you?"