Just the thought of trying to eat makes Chrissy feel a little queasy, though she doesn't want to draw any attention to that fact. Going to her own place — wherever that might be, the envelope still unopened in her lap — doesn't seem any better. She's no safer here than she would be on her own, something she's all too aware of, having been in his trailer when everything went so horrifically wrong, but she feels a little more at ease. That has to count for something. Right now, she doesn't have the wherewithal to pretend she's any more okay than she actually is.

"I don't think I could sleep right now," she admits, sniffling again, a little sheepish. She's barely slept in a week, but she can handle the exhaustion far better than she could handle whatever would be waiting when she closes her eyes. "But... as long as it's not too much trouble... I don't really want to be alone yet, either."

He's the one who offered, but all the same, she doesn't want to be an imposition. They barely know each other, after all, even if it no longer feels like that's the case.