[ It was like one big funeral - a glass case for all of their items out of reach. A memoriam, she thinks. Elizabeth had long since succumbed to the thought that she may not leave this place alive, but this motive... it has her doubts. It gives her that brief second of weakness. Her own objects weren't far off from Jacks - a key, ticket on the First Lady zeppelin to Paris and a frame much like his. Of course, instead of a young girl, hers was of a grislier man around Jack's age - a face she long thought she'd never see again.

The demeanor the girl has when she sees Jack and hears the tone in his voice is echoed. She slaps at the glass in a flurry of movement, her knuckles beginning to redden as slaps of frustration turn into punches. He was right - they did their homework. Everyone had - her entire life was about things she doesn't understand and her frustrations were there. She stops, catching her breath as she holds onto her hand. She's close to sobbing, her eyes swelled up but she's trying to regain her composure. A lady always had that, after all. ]

They'll pay. They'll surely pay for every sin they've caused us to commit. For those killed - for Booker, for - [ She didn't quite see the little girl yet, but when she approaches Jack with the a fire inside of her unlike he had seen, she stops. ] Oh... ... is she...?