It certainly sounds like something he'd say, the recognition of which doesn't do anything to help. It just weighs on her more.

"It's a likely story, bub," she says within a cynical laugh.

All bravado, all cold confidence and self-assuredness, because that's the only way to keep her heart where it belongs. Safely in her chest, not down in her shoes or up in her throat. It's the only way to not hate him a little bit for always being right.

"Say one thing," she adds at last, betraying a hint of desperation. "Just one true thing."