Anna. [It's a tone of mock outrage, joking, but there's a quiet shakiness to her voice she can't brush off either.] If I didn't know better, I'd think you were offering me birthday sex.

[And now she should laugh and let the joke end there, but. It'd be nice, wouldn't it? To just. Let loose and not have to think for a bit, no matter how brief it is. Sometimes it feels like the only time her head isn't caving in is when she's sleeping, and even that's not guaranteed. Half the time sleep just means nightmares.

But she takes a bracing swig of her beer, even if it doesn't do shit for her, just to pretend it does something to bolster her courage so she can get through her words without chickening out.]

Thanks. I mean it, seriously. And I'd be down, but... I wouldn't wanna fuck it up, y'know? [She swallows.] Because if I fucked up with you again, I'd be—

[Alone. And maybe that wouldn't even be true, but it'd feel like it, and that would be enough.]