Logan looks at her, gaze tracking over her blindfold, the spatters of blood on her clothes. The price she's paying just to stay here, fighting against an end that's already happened somewhere else.

He recognises what she's saying. Knows that feeling. Usually he chases it down with a shot of whiskey or gets himself into a brawl or two, but here he has nothing to offer her except more words.

"I --" he starts, then feels a warmth under his palm, and a shimmering light rolling down across the mirror as the cracks melt away. He manages to stop himself falling forward as the mirror's surface disappears. Just like with Ellie. They'd been having a pretty intense conversation then, too.

Shit, he thinks, this place is feedin' on our secrets.

But there's more important things to worry about right now.

"Kid. Ruth, we have a way out. You feel that?"