Beth sits where she's directed, in no real mood to care where. She's got a spoon in the groats, though she doesn't make much effort to take a bite. Anything would taste like cardboard right now, but this smells especially bland and unappetizing. As long as they're talking, she can mostly put it from her mind, but when everything falls quiet again, it returns.

Which makes sense. It's been, like, twenty minutes. But the weight of it is still like lead pressing down her chest.

So say something. You have to try. She can't think of anything, though--not anything that seems like it'd make a difference. Eventually, her voice barely a mutter, she tries the only thing that comes to mind, even though it's still full of that unshakable homesickness. "Maggie's my sister."