"Sometimes we take a tender out to another pocket reality... visit someplace neat. I attended summer camp, and some old timey diner out in the desert, and went on a secret tomb-raiding mission on an island full of lizard people." They were salamanders. And she ended up cursed. But she's trying to hit the highlights, because so many people are quick to call this place torture. [and depending on when this liminal thread takes place, she also just got murdered at a mountain resort at Christmas. but the hot cocoa was nice.]

Her shoulders droop slightly, even despite his tone, finger tracing around the rim of her mug slowly and almost bashfully. "It's... just people talk. About where they came from. Their adventures and their friends back home. And I... I never... had anything like that, barely knew anyone. What else could I tell them? That my whole life was... running black ops missions for SHIELD, getting experimented on, and staying cooped up in a containment chamber because I was falling apart?" It's a rather pathetic way to live, and it would have been a sad way to die. With only Bill to ever care.

"But I... do have real friends now." Not that Scott isn't real, not that she doesn't think they might have been able to develop more of a relationship if they had known each other for longer. He probably had been the closest thing she had to one, given how lonely she'd been. "And a boyfriend." So see? She's doing okay for herself, for a weird shut in.