[ She's very quiet. Not...really moving, much. Her hands slide down the side of her face to fall limp at her side.

There's a part of her that wants to snap, that she doesn't want to hear this, not from Angel. Could Angel help it? ...Does Angel really have a choice in the matter? It's not fair, none of this is fair. Not a single part of this.

Della murmurs: ] Ten years. I'll never get those ten years back.

[ And then, she sits up. At least, she raises her head. ]

I'm...gonna think on this more. In the present. No changing the past.