There's a long moment, as she finishes chewing through Pink's recommendation. What it means. Exactly how hot the water just got.

She's dead.

Not right yet. But she's how Marco got hidden to start with. She's going to be throwing everything she can behind keeping this unlucky kid from becoming just another skeleton in a closet. And she's already pissed off the police enough to be a personal enemy. She could take the the Fall, she'd need expensive surgery and rehab to rip out all the prosthetic connections first. Find a way to live out her days in Siberia, return back to Quebec maybe. Never contact anybody she knew, keep an eye on the horizon at all time's for any assassins, and hope nobody drops a rock on her house. She'd never walk again, but it'd be survival.

But there's more important things than surviving.

"No. No, I won't let the cops end his life. They're not killing him. They're not forcing him out. I won't let them. If he chooses, on his own, to take that step? Run and hide, never talk to anybody he knows again? Sure. I'll support it. But I won't compromise. Nobody should have to make that choice. And standing against that is more important than just trying not to die."

She's furious and tearing up and this is why nobody sticks her in front of a camera and tells her to make speeches. She means every word too much to be marketable and there's nothing clever here, no wordplay or great oration, just ideals clutched too tightly to be broken by prison. She wipes her eyes with an angry swipe, and looks down, surprised, at the soup bowl that survived all that. Or maybe she just wants an excuse not to look at you after showing her heart.