He'd already regretted not cushioning the answer; blame the confusion of his arrival, the fact that half his thoughts are still occupied with everything that occurred just before waking on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Seeing the impact of the truth on her face, the horror slipping momentarily to revulsion before she reins it in, Darlington finds he's able to regret it just slightly more.

"I'm not sure if anything here is really what it claims to be," he says, knowing it's a flimsy reassurance at best. "I've had enough experience with people who can alter perceptions to suit their own whims that I find it's better to remain skeptical, but take no chances." When she drops the ice cream on the ground a moment later, he's quietly impressed. Adaptable, he thinks, before arranging his expression into something a little more startled.

"God, it must be contagious," he says, pushing false warmth into his voice, an easy half-joking tone as he grabs more napkins from the holder, passing some to her. "At least you missed your shoes."