That's... the part of her he loves and loathes. He'd like to think that he sets an example he wants others to live by, hard as it is, painful as it is. Some might call grace a lie and mercy cruel, but he believes in redemption. He has to. He'd like to think that he could save her. Save everyone. In this... ridiculous, unrealistic, overly romanticised sort of way.

He's not going to save her by lighting and stoking a much needed fire, but he might at least give her enough drive to keep going in this place. Matt isn't around to love her, to remind her that he believes in her, so she'll just have to love herself and have faith in the meantime, at least until they find a way back to each other again.

"I don't think you should stay," he suggests, running calloused fingers through her hair. He's not chasing her away, and he's not even starting to move away from her. It's just words, nudging her to be free. Otherwise she could spend forever staring into the mirror and not get anywhere she needs to go.

"I wish you could see you, the way I do," he teases as he lifts his head and smiles towards the edge of the mirror, resting the side of his head against hers. Of course, no one can quite see anything or anyone else the way he does. How easy it would be, then, to convince her that she is more than the sum of her scars, and too easy to love.

"Then you'd know for sure you don't belong here, and you don't have to feel this way."