[She breaks off another thread from her shirt's hem and hands it back in reply. Regretting that it meant she'd had to pull away (a little bit through, which she hoped wasn't too unnerving,) Izabel offers her hand out so they can pretend again, and studies over his face.]

When you're ready to talk about all that stuff... The questions you didn't want to have to answer and the sentences you didn't finish? You'll come to me, right? You won't hide it?