[ Xion puts her watch down and swings her legs out of bed, standing. She's strong now - almost at full health. She's not very imposing, short as she is and wearing pajamas, but the hard line of her shoulders and the anger writ large now across her expression are out of place on her, and thus more arresting for it. ]

What are you saying? [ She shakes her head. Beneath it all, beneath the indignation, is a deep wellspring of hurt. He'll be able to see it in her eyes, in the small movements of her hands, the only pieces of her that are jittery and unsure. But she shores up her battered defenses with righteous anger and plows on. ]

That you ... knew? You knew you were going to die, so you arranged for me to be taken care of? How could you do something like that? You should never have been planning to die!

[ By the end of it, she's shouting. ]