Sabrina's got a dirty joke on her lips, but it's stayed by the touch of his hand, the relief of acknowledging what she'd had to do to him. She knows that he understands, or she's fairly certain he's the only one who can know the depth of it, the standing at the edge of a chasm with a singular, obscure hope-- and in it, the utter destruction of something so much bigger than any of them.

"I'm sorry about that too," she whispers. "I realized he'd be at his most vulnerable when he let you through. I hate this stupid apocalyptic shit has to hurt you."