"I'll have whatever you're having," she says, her eyes on his hands. (Such young hands.) She brushes a wisp of hair out of her eyes, her thoughts scattered.

"So, where I come from... Someone would have to pay for what happened to Henri. A lot of someones, more likely." She doesn't know if it's the same here, but it's a place to start. And there's a strange resolve in her voice, like she'd be up for it, if he were to ask.