"...Maybe. To tell the trruth, I don't rreally know. Maybe I'm kind. Maybe I'm not. Maybe you arre." She leans against a bookcase and looks into the shadows of the walls. "I won't botherr you if you rreally don't want, though."

No matter what she says, something inside her aches. No one should be so sad. She wants to help. (And yes, yes she also wants to be liked. She feels more like a person that way. People have friends. Things don't.)