She goes rigid upon being hugged, not entirely sure why it's happening--it never has before, not like this. The closest she can remember is listening to her mother reading to her, of war manuals and a single fairy tale, and being prodded to sit up, out of reach, when she attempted to lean in against her warmth.

No, Kiden had hugged her once, before she left. She'd promised to come back, that they would go away someplace else, find a way to leave without putting the rest of the Nixons at risk. But she had left.

"How?" The thought of it is impossible. There are dozens of people in this house, hundreds more in the houses and streets outside it, and her procurer knows enough of them to make hiding difficult. However much Laura wants to say yes, now, let's--, she knows it isn't actually an option.