She won't push back on the idea of home more than she has to. Her own feelings on the subject are buried deep, deep, and if she thinks too hard there's a risk they'll float up into Radar's perceptions. So instead, she takes the apple and does as he instructs, holding it out slowly. Careful, careful - and when Danforth does take it from her, she laughs at the feeling of it, watching him go for the treat with as much eagerness as she tends to attack a fresh made bun from Max.

"I like fruit too," she confesses to the horse, pulling her hand back when it's clear he doesn't need her to hold it anymore. "If I'd known, I would have brought some to share, and thereby win your favor that way."

If this is common, she'll bring some to the horses she's meant to drive. An offering, in hopes of a decent event. And it's sweet, this moment, almost too sweet, enough to make the bile rise in the back of her throat and be swallowed, because to give any quarter to what's in her head is to make it known, and her present company doesn't need that. So she folds it into the smallest form she can, holds it down, the way she does around Valdis. It can rage all it likes later, if she's allowed a peaceful moment now.