She nodded, seeming to blush a little as he looked her over, but certainly not minding the attention.  At the mention of their lost comrades, her smile fades somewhat, and she nods her pale head gently.<br/>She meets his hand on her wrist with her own, long-fingered, delicate grip, offering a slight squeeze in reply before he walks away.  "If things had gone better, we might not have lost our friends."  She reached for his shoulder, up a considerable height from her own, "And if perfectly, we could have avoided the whole mess..."  she sighs, following and allowing him to open the door for her.  "There's no point in saying 'what if'.  There's just 'what was'."  She folds her arms over her breasts and walks through the open door.  "I could use a drink, too," she agrees.<br/>She leads the way back down, seeming even smaller from being a step or two lower than him all the time.  "You can't blame yourself."