Then it's time to learn to fight. The 'something' will come in time, and hopefully, in time. That's what the fighting does, and the learning: it whittles you down, drop by drop, sweat and blood.

"Yes, you've seen through my clever plot. I'm not at all taking pity on a poor lost boy before the shock sets in." Saying that sarcastically would drop them both; it wouldn't drip, it would flood. So she's deadpanning it, and turning to go; he'll follow if he wants, and if he doesn't, that's his choice.

Her path has coffee and the companionship of someone who seems to know what they're doing in this place.