She takes another couple of bites, trying to figure out how much is appropriate to tell him without making things too heavy or uncomfortable for him, weighing up how much she wants to remember tonight, and how much she just wants to distract herself. It seems surreal enough talking about the past with him as it is; she's not sure how much of her time in the war she's mentioned.

"My eighteenth birthday, we were about ten miles south of New Rochelle. My troupe wasn't even supposed to be there by that point, but the Germans kept shelling and making it difficult for us to move out, and so Joshua and I kept crossing paths. It was my birthday that he proposed." She shrugs. "I guess it's just easier to think about that than the day he died, even if it still hurts."