Asks her about her tears in eyes .. she deflect the topic by questioning

You glance at Lina's face, the telltale redness around her eyes impossible to ignore. "I noticed you were crying in the kitchen. Are you okay?"

She stiffens, her fingers tightening around the half-eaten sandwich. For a moment, she looks exactly like Jane did whenever you'd catch her in a **** moment—that same defensive posture, shoulders drawing up slightly, gaze sliding away.

"It's nothing," she says, but the words come out thick, unconvincing. Then her expression shifts, eyes narrowing as she sets the sandwich down on the coffee table with deliberate precision. "Actually, let's talk about something more pressing. That chemical you used on me—I lost consciousness because of it. You found my weakness." Her voice gains an edge. "You've messed everything up. Now bringing them down has become so much more difficult. What if they deploy the same compound at the next hideouts?"

The accusation hangs between you, her fear masquerading as anger. You can see her hands trembling slightly, betraying the bravado in her voice.

"Marco's men now know how to hurt me," she continues, drawing her knees tighter to her chest beneath the oversized t-shirt. "They have your notes, don't they? The formula. Everything you developed while they had you captive."

You nod slowly, the implications sinking in. "The notes were in the van. Along with the prototype vibrator and the remaining chemical canisters."

"Fuck," she whispers, dragging a hand through her dark hair—Jane's gesture, so familiar it makes your chest ache. "So if Viktor finds the bodies, if he recovers your research..."

"He'll understand how to replicate the effect," you finish. "But there's good news and bad news there."

Lina looks up, her eyes—Jane's eyes—meeting yours with wary curiosity.

"The good news is that the chemical formula requires specialized equipment to synthesize properly. The bad news is that Marco probably has access to that equipment."

She lets out a slow breath, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "How quickly could they reproduce it?"

"Twenty-four hours, minimum. Probably closer to forty-eight to get it right. The carrier gel is tricky—has to penetrate diamond lattice without degrading the active compounds." You rub your eyes, fatigue washing over you. "But once they have it..."

"I'm screwed," she finishes flatly. "I can't just walk through walls of it anymore."

A silence settles between you, heavy with shared understanding. Then Lina's expression softens slightly, vulnerability creeping back in.

"I was crying because having you here feels wrong and right at the same time," she admits suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're the only person alive who loved her like I did. But seeing you here, in our apartment, where she lived before..."

She trails off, gesturing vaguely at the photographs on the side table. "It's like two separate worlds colliding. You were never supposed to be here. She kept you separate from all this. But now you're the only one who understands." Her eyes glisten with fresh tears. "And I hate that I need you to help me finish what I started."

The confession hangs in the air between you—raw, unvarnished truth. She reaches for her sandwich again but doesn't take a bite, just holds it like an anchor to normalcy.

"I can still smell her perfume sometimes," she says softly. "In the bathroom. On some of her old sweaters in the closet. It's been a year, and I still turn to tell her things before remembering she's gone."

You see it then—not just Jane's face, but the grief that mirrors your own, shaped differently but cut from the same cloth. For all her diamond invulnerability, in this moment Lina is achingly human.