Oh, my parents did, sometimes. I was really close with them. But they were killed almost two years ago.

[ Misa admits, with an uncanny level of straightforward clarity. Whether her ease at speaking on the subject comes from her breezily accepting it as a fact of life, or from her current state of intoxication is difficult to tell, with the lazy way her head lolls to the side after saying so. Her expression... stays warm, steady, despite her slurred words, though she fixes her gaze at some arbitrary detail of the wallpaper rather than at Eustace himself. ]

I guess that's why I'm not used to it anymore?

[ Someone worrying about her in this particular fashion, that is. In a way, his actions are not those of a friend, from her perspective - he barely likes her, if at all, she's aware. It feels more akin to the begrudging actions of an annoyed family member, the way her older sister would tug her along when she dilly dallied too long at the store, or when she forgot to hold her hand while crossing the street. Misa gives a shrug, looking up and away, lost in a distracted, airheaded string of thoughts, like she hasn't really noticed ever missing that kind of care. It's like she's just realized she's been without it from that source. ]