The longer the silence stretches, the more Hanna feels the need to fidget, that knee bouncing again. He swallows down the sick feeling rising up in his throat as he looks back at the beauty of the rising sun, the golden dawn light.

It's easier to talk when he knows Sheehan can't look him in the eye. People like that, he feels like the more he says, the more they can work through it with less context, but there is a soft mantra repeating in the back of his mind. He isn't a puzzle, and Sheehan isn't just going to leave when he's done slotting the pieces into place.

"I never blamed her for what happened. I barely felt it, you know? I mean, I did when I managed to get her out, but...not while it was happening." He let's the cup in his hand rest on the bench seat next to him.

"Her name was Dolores, but...heh. People just called her Dolly. Cute, right?"