Somewhere, she knows from that memory that she met a terrible fate. Angeal had thought it, had felt worried about her state after- It clicked into place what he was referring to now that she is sifting through all the thoughts, feelings, and perspective that wasn't hers. The tactile feeling of the hand rubbing against her back is familiar yet still distant as she remembers part of a life that wasn't necessarily hers.

"Right," she answers, to his statement but also to that she can get up. "We, uhm. We were talking, and- I got upset? About something unrelated, but somehow it came up that I thought you weren't into me. And you weren't - aren't? - but not... in a bad way, just." It's hard for this Rosie to conceptualize, honestly, that anyone would like her for reasons beyond her fuckability when that was all she was told mattered the last few years. At least, that any straight or bisexual man would so it's why she'd safely assumed Angeal was gay. If her main appeal wasn't applicable, then it made sense to find the other parts of her enjoyable since there was no choice. But when there was and they didn't go for the immediate draw of how hot she was, it just felt like a failure on her part after being conditioned to dump all her worth into the success rate of seduction.

"Sorry, I'm trying to make sense. It was just... a lot take in, suddenly."