[If she wasn't completely drunk, she wouldn't throw herself at him in an attempt to hug him, the table wobbling and wine spilling from their glasses as she puts her arms around him, not so much as to comfort him as that she needs it herself.]

The pictures that came out of those places... Whatever you think hell is like, it's worse. And I know things were bad in Russia then, and I don't mean to trivialise anything your family went through either. ...Or mine.

[She adds that almost as an afterthought, the Flint side of the family is still something quite distant to her, although since she'd been forced to confront other aspects of it thanks to the House Committee, she'd been thinking about it a lot more again. The Fleigs - they'd changed it to Flint on arriving at Ellis Island - escaping the pogroms in Lithuania, the hopeful immigrants to America. She wished she could identify with it more.]