Anne has the peculiar sensation of the night blurring around her as she makes her slow way home, so much like a dog with its tail tucked. But pride won't serve her tonight. She feels calmer now, after visiting Greta, after letting her own confusion and frustration spill across the floor. It feels long ago now that she shut the door on Jack, and now, when she opens it again, she's neither certain what she'll find or what she'll say.

But she does make her way back and open that door, stepping in softly and taking her hat from her head.

"Jack," she says to announce herself, her tone quiet and gentle.