She watches him, watches the way he holds back from embracing her. She's not sure how she feels about that - there's a part of her that recognizes she needs it, wants it … but everything that she's been through has made her reticent to open up to people. And Eddie - it was always so complicated with Eddie. There was history there, a familiarity that right now part of her is aching for. But the last time they'd given in, well. Her world had imploded in the aftermath.

Additionally, there is nothing he could do or say that would convince her it wasn't her fault that Dylan ended up with Carl Brock. Her therapist had run that circular race track with her already, before she'd stopped going.

Pulling her arms a little tighter around her, she puts her head down again and heads to the kitchen. She's not getting a glass of water, though; pulling out a bottle and pouring herself a shot of bourbon. Self medication. Liquid strength. Trying to recapture a bit of the self confidence she once had. She agreed with him; if Dylan was away from Carl, she didn't want him going back, but she doubted her own abilities to help.

She returns to the living room and finally sits, setting the bottle on the table and dangling the glass while she looks at Eddie, and then looks at Venom.

"What is there to talk about? What did he do?"