[A bizarre sensation washes over her as he just asks for her medicine. It's a good idea. One that's never occurred to her because no one's ever asked. There's been so many situations where she hasn't had it-times when she's curled up against Guzma in that bleak, empty jail or wandered around underground ruins without her items at hand.

But it's weird to talk about it so openly and the weight that slides off her back when she lets her gross bag fall to the ground is a relief all its own.

She hesitates, when pulling the small bottle out of the front pocket though. An anxious, nervous grip clutching her heart whole at the thought of really bringing it out into the open like this.

So she scoots to his feet, sitting in front of his toes, and opens the bag up there. If he looks down, he can see everything. The folded, worn pieces of paper it's hiding underneath. The orange prescription bottle that's in her hands, shielded by bag itself.

She pops the cap open easily, letting a couple of them fall into her palm. A day without one won't kill her, hopefully. Not if she can take one the very next evening. She survived Ai'Tuoh-this won't hurt.

She wraps her fingers around them, just in case someone's looking. It's hard to shake off years of fear, of guilt, of shame, maybe and tries to drop them into Guzma's palm, quickly folding his fingers around them so they're out of sight again.]

That's where they are and that's-it's them. You can have those and-

[She taps her fingers against the back of his hand.]

I won't forget, but I'm okay. Even if it hurts really bad, I always make it home.