If anything, the flush across her cheeks manages to somehow grow brighter and her eyes fly wide - a bit nervously, one might notice. Because, after all, if he remembers that there's no telling what other things he may remember and - dear gods she needs to learn how to shut up.

Drowning herself is quickly becoming a preferable option.

"To sleep," she squeaks guiltily. "I sang sometimes to help you sleep? Not that you particularly needed help just - it was quiet anyhow and -"