Juliet bumps him back, but then she's quiet, thinking about his question. It shouldn't be a hard one, but she doesn't know what she deserves. What does she deserve for wishing Edmund's death? What does she deserve for promising and failing to fix nine women? What does she deserve for murdering someone who used to be a friend?

Swallowing, she blinks quickly, looking out at the dark and turns his question around on him.

They're the same, after all.

"Do you, about yourself?"