[She feels like curling up against him like a cat, soaking in his slow words and wheezing. Even pulling from old, thoughts, revamping the words as she needed, it's exhausting to tell her own stories out loud. Especially when they aren't complete. Her eyes have drifted shut so that she can better picture the way Joanna whisks through the scene, some kind of cloth or her hair flowing freely to really accentuate the way she looks around before turning. Smooth, but dramatic. A dawning realization moving into something that hasn't quite settled. It would be confusing. It would, eventually, be lonely. These days, there are plenty of things that make sure she knows what it is to be left without something that was always there, leaving an inexplicable void in its place. Like waking up to find your nose disappeared.

Ryder shifts so that she can't start drifting off before she realizes it, too focused on the figure in her imagination.]

But -- can't just make it her -- fault. Not fair to her... Um. I don't know what -- being a Joanna-type is like, but it's better for -- Gemma's to communicate. Even if they're not...good.