Her hand clenches around the last uniform; she nearly throws it at him, but the inclination for violence fades almost as soon as it rises. Just her nerves, a side effect of wanting to argue with him. That's all it ever is.

Vanya closes her eyes instead. She doesn't need to count to ten or take a beat to breathe. But she never has the right words, is never fast enough to snap back at any of her siblings. It's hardest with Allison and Klaus: they're so quick witted, and she is...not.

"We were like - six," she says, and it's shaky and uncertain because she is forever doubting herself. Maybe she should just - no. She'll be gone soon. It won't matter. And besides, she won't be here to give him anything.

Something inside her wants to cry, but no tears sting her eyes: she thinks it must just be her anxiety, flickering away under the medicine. V takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. "I can't help you anymore."