Ah, there it is, the anger she had felt brewing from the moment he had walked into the room. The anger she knew him well enough to know was there underneath everything, despite how cool he had kept himself up until that point. It's almost satisfying that she still does know him well enough to have needled him this far.

"You say all that as though I haven't thought of it," she tells him confidently, lifting her chin almost defiantly. "Why would I let something like that escape? Why would I allow a culture like that to completely die and their advances with them?"

He knows her too well to believe that she would simply let something like the Praxian society die out. There's no way in the world she would do such a thing. Which means that she's managed to preserve it. The question would be: how?

"But that isn't it, either, is it? The real afterthought here is something else. What would have happened if I hadn't followed you to New York City? Would you have stayed? You never were one to let go easily when something truly mattered."

She's getting close; she can feel it. Not quite there yet, not to the point where he might finally just let it all out, but they're on the path.