The way that hits her, hard and cold in her stomach, sinks in before the actual meaning of the words, and she draws back, more instinctive than intentional. For a few seconds, she can't say anything at all. There's nothing she's done to earn that kind of treatment, not lately, certainly not right now, but that doesn't stop her from trying to think what she might have done wrong. Part of her wants to say Don't bother, wants to pick up and run home right away, too tired to play games, but she'd just lie awake there, too. She stands up straight again, folding her arms, and fights past the panic. "Okay, don't do this."