She folds into the chair and puts her hands to the sides of her head, forcefully enough to start to disorganize her bun. For a moment Lisa had loved that young man, whoever he was. There had been such a strong feeling of wanting him to be okay, and finding him impossibly naive, and... it had come out of nowhere. Lisa presses her fingers into her scalp, forcing herself not to cry.

"I think-" Stop. Stop. She hates to speak with her voice breaking. Lisa swallows and takes some deep, measured breaths. Looking back up at Arnold she is calmer, even with distress in her eyes. "I think that was a numbered episode."