"Thanks," she murmurs, squeezing his hand for a moment before finally letting him go and trudging back over to the chairs, leaving her briefcase on one of the unoccupied counters, seemingly forgetting all about it.

Toeing off her shoes, she settles in one of the arm chairs and tucks her feet up under herself like she used to when she was a teenager, leaning her head on the back and turning away from him a little. It's easier to relax when she doesn't have to be afraid he'll see her face.

However, that means that she's left alone with her thoughts as she sits there, morbidly replaying every moment of her day, like she had any control over any of it.