She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands holding to the edge of the mattress. Her eyes close for a long moment, the memory of the kiss the night before warring with the knowledge that this is not the Gene Hunt who sat in the Edgehampton vault with his arm around her; this is not the Gene Hunt who rescued her from the freezer or from Summer's sick little game.

Her voice is still husky from sleep, and barely more than a whisper.

"No."

She doesn't look at him. Maybe if she doesn't look at him.

"What did it say?"