She feels a faint twinge of guilt when she sees Cassandra's reaction, but she knows from experience that being upfront is the best way. Trying to talk about it with the people who were there invariably leads to the panic and the tremors and either freezing up so much she can hardly speak or needing to get far, far away. Or worse, both. She's not going to inflict that weakness on Cassandra, and she's not going to inflict it on herself again, either, if she can help it.

(Besides, such honesty it has its utility. People who insist they're going to bring it up anyway are flashing a bright signal light of warning right at her. Cassandra doesn't, and Tayrey is assured now at least that there's no grudge there, nothing for her to worry over.)

'Thank you,' she says carefully. 'I value that. I'm so glad you're alive.' Not here, not when Cassandra could be at home instead - and her avoidance of that topic hasn't gone unnoticed, but Tayrey refrains from prying into it. It's almost certainly painful; it's for Cassandra to decide what she shares, and when.

'It gives me hope that some of the others reached home, too,' she says then. Her friends. The innocent people caught up in a horrific situation. There are others that Tayrey hopes are dead and stay that way - and she can hope for that with a clear conscience. She hadn't wished that imprisonment or the utter horror of the Nothing on even the worst of them, but death? Certainly. Another thought to keep very much to herself.