It doesn't even help to hear his Apollo was a woman. She fusses with the zipper of her hoodie and tries to settle her shaking hands. Yes she doesn't have to tell him anything. That's good, she doesn't want to touch that broken bit of herself at the middle. But maybe at the edges, so he knows not to--so he won't say his name again. So she won't have to hear it from him if all people.

"Uh--well he and I--we had a difference of opinion. On whether I was interested in him. And whether my lack of interest meant I wouldn't be in a relationship with him. He didn't seem to care."

There's a lot in that words, things said, unsaid. She twists the strings of her hoodie round and round her fingers.

"So--please don't mention him again? And don't get all puffed up. I can't--" She doesn't want to deal with his feeling about it on top of her own. He doesn't even know the full extent, everything to be angry about.