[ If there was a way she could bottle up her emotion and just store it away, it would make things easier. Jack had represented everything she tried so desperately to escape in Columbia. The sensationalism of it all and how a choice so heinous was swept under the rug.

“What is Columbia but a new ark for a new time?” Comstock once asked and in their isolation outside of the cabin, she wonders if that was what the Pygmalion was. No, she can't continue to make those connections anymore than Jack can make those about Angel. Elizabeth realizes this now... Jack isn't Comstock.

He's here - flesh and bone, she feels. Her fingers clutch at his shirt, nearly stretching the neck out from how she tries to compose herself. ]

I would kill you if I could, you know. For being stupid... for being... for everything. I never felt as much fear as I have when you opened your mouth about your role - [ TW: roles. ] Look where it got you. At least you get your own cabin.

[ Her words are dry, but not angry. Not painful and she finds it hard to picture this ending any other way. Were they all to end up here...?

Her musing was cut short as he's intimate in a way she's never felt. Someone's concern and happiness - the gesture was conflicting but she lets it happen. He feels her move her hand to find his wrist, holding it softly. ]

How can you be so sure? Is it your own determination to fight the odds? [ There's that girl he through a tablet with - the sass that drips even when she speaks with such a polite tone. ] ...Did it hurt...? Did you suffer -

[ There's worry on her face, even if she knows what the answers will be. ]