(Lucretia leans back into her seat, hands leaving her knees to fold tightly, comfortingly across her chest like she's trying to tuck in and make herself smaller. She watches him carefully as he talks, and slowly, but surely, that tight coil of panic trapped in her chest starts to unwind.)

I... (oh, no. Her voice is a little hoarse, and for a horrible moment she thinks she might cry. She pauses, staring hard at the counter.)

Thank you, (she manages eventually,) for saying that. That... that something else might be going on, I mean. (Neither Taako nor Lup seem predisposed to believe that of her. They are, of course, far closer to the heart of her betrayal than Cain is, but they've also known her for longer, and she thought that might have meant a little more to them. It's the worst part of the whole thing, really, the endless questioning of her own character.)

You're not a terrible option, Cain. You're– you've been helpful, more than you know. You're a very good friend to me.