Anne takes in the state of the place, the few signs and symbols of Jack's state in her absence, before she fixes her gaze on him, a long curl over the couch. His words leave her quiet. No greeting, no demands, no reproach or even a signification of relief. Only Greta, as if he knows she went there, only his explanation that follows doesn't indicate that, either. Not saying it because he feels like it's what she wants to hear. He's just saying it.

Jack hardly ever apologizes for anything, which is only part of the reason why it surprises her. After a long moment, Anne sets her hat aside and drifts over to him. There isn't room on the couch and she doesn't know if she's welcome there anyway, so she crouches beside it, waiting patiently for him to turn toward her.

"Went to see her," she says finally. "She seemed all right. But..." She lifts a shoulder, wanting to tread carefully, not sure exactly where to step. "I think she'd appreciate that."

But she doesn't want to talk about Greta, not right now.

"I'm sorry I left," she says, the words soft and just a little foreign. "Shouldn't have done that to you."