[After a moment's hesitation, Descole nods, though her hands shake a little as she unbuttons her shirt and pulls it off. She's kind of a mess underneath it, though her front isn't as bad as her back - except for her chest. Even with her bra in place, the tops of the letters carved there are still visible. Glancing down, she shudders at the sight of them, curling herself up against her double again so that the scars are hidden a little more.]

I. He... that was the worst of what Layton did. Because... the rest I can forget, even. I can make excuses, but--

[She cuts herself off, shaking her head and burying her face in his chest.]