She knows what it's like. To seek comfort in something terrible, but familiar. The League, destructive as it was to her soul, to the person she used to be, was home for six years. Familiar. Structured. But eventually, it had all become too much.

He reminds her of the mark that signifies his standing here, arbitrary as it is. She frowns at it, gaze lingering there for a moment.

"I know you are," she concedes quietly. "But you're not alone, okay? This... this place is a mess, but it can be better than it was at home. It will be."