"It did a pretty great job for years." In the end, no, not so much. Not that she'd ever really expected it to. The idea that a little dried out animal foot could be any sort of protection, it had never been something she could actually believe. It had been Diego, the way he threw away the comment as he'd tossed it to her, even though his eyes were far more serious, were scanning her face nervously to see what she'd make of it. It had been real to him, and so she'd cared.

She watches it swing along her finger, and then once again flicks her wrist and turns her hand so it's caught cradled in her palm, so she can close her fist around it. "Maybe it brought me here. Maybe my luck is that... I'm not finished." He's hurting. Still. Written in every line of him and she can't fix it and she can't even be surprised that it's happening. Diego and feelings. It only ever ends one way, doesn't it? So, she does what she's always done - she gives him an out, because she cares. "You were headed somewhere, before you saw me. If you've got something to check on, don't let me keep you."