He can't say it. He cannot tell her what she wants to hear. He cannot just lie to her and tell her that she's beautiful. He can't even think of something half complimentary to say to her.

She closes her eyes and takes a breath. There are no tears left. There's nothing to be upset about. In the long and short of things, her ugliness is nothing. She has bigger problems.

"Well, fine then." She spits out. She hopes her voice doesn't shake. "Fine. Bring food for me. I am staying on the sixth floor. You might find me there."