[ She fidgets a little under his tight grip, staring at their joined hands rather than at him directly. In that moment, she thinks there's something desperate and lonely and deathly serious behind those unsaid words, in that weary, weathered look, and in his fervent clinging. But it's as if his words are too big for her to carry— she fumbles with the weight of them, unsure of how or if to take them with her.

Because she's heard something so eerily similar before— from Himeka, who had told her just the day previous that she'd only meet her own demise if she went down this path. And with hearing this grave omen a second time, she faintly feels herself growing further away from him, in heart, in ideology, kneejerk pushing back against the notion that she could ever come to regret trying to do what she thinks is right for the person she loves. It's impossible, isn't it? Even if he's seen this before, she could be different... maybe. She has to be. ]

Thanks for always worrying about me, Abel... [ She says, gently and sweetly, truly meaning it - though the caveat coming is more than obvious in her tone, the words resembling a goodbye more than an acceptance. ] But... I'm not worried about regrets.

[ There's a sense of finality there, as though she, too, is unwilling to say something aloud, unwilling to shine on a light on her past. ]

You should really... head back. Howl will wonder where I am very soon...

[ This is the kindest thing she can do for him, under the current circumstances. With her free hand, she quietly tries to coax him into easing his grip, an unspoken apology in her eyes. That someone so kind has to be her enemy is regrettable, to be sure, but.... there's nothing she can do. There's no other way. ]