"You know, I've often wondered about that," Jenny says, thoughtful, if somewhat abrupt, corners of her mouth pulling down slightly. "How can a place truly be expected to be a blank slate when it's so small that you can run into your past even here?" Truthfully, the idea is more than a little unsettling to her, sending a shiver down her spine even now, in the warmth of the sunlight. Save for the typical antics of the bookshelf and jukebox, she's been left to deal with her history on her own, the only one who gets to determine what people know (namely nothing), but who's to say how long that will be the case? God, if David showed up, she doesn't know what she'd do; killing him seems irrational, but it is, in the moment, her gut instinct, especially without his actual wife around to miss him. (Of course, her presence would be just as unwelcome, too. Jenny shied away from really talking to her the once they met, and she has no desire to change that; here, an encounter would probably be unavoidable.)

Shaking her head to try to clear it of any such thoughts, an effort that has only a middling amount of success, she bites her lip as she looks at him, bordering on uncertainty. Being curious is something she's never been able to help, now more than ever, when it should only make sense to want to know what ghosts could be haunting a man who is, as far as she can see, nothing short of charming; that doesn't make it her place to try to find out. "Anyway, you don't need to be sorry," she assures him, as if it were something that ought to speak for itself. "I don't mind. I can't imagine it would be easy."