Anne's smile turns to more of an outright grin at that answer, though it's quick to soften again at Saoirse's addition. She hums thoughtfully. There's no resentment she can detect in it; Saoirse's just stating a fact. But she can imagine it must be hard to feel tethered like that. She can imagine it all too well, having come here.

Of course, she can imagine just as well how frightening the idea must be for Greta.

"You're important to her," she says after a moment. There's nothing stern about it; it's not as if she thinks Saoirse doesn't know that. It's just that: a fact, an observation, something that leaves Anne faintly wistful, as if nostalgic for something she never had, that is far, far beyond her now.