[relief floods in, grateful to hear another name. she quickly etches it into memory, to hoard it as readily as the scant-few she has left to hang onto. her posture relaxes reflexively, and after a beat she extends her own hand, gingerly placing it in his.

she goes still for a beat, feeling...something. a flutter. it's a little alarming, so sudden as it is, but as she looks up from Flynn's hand to his face and feels it again, dots connect.

...gads...keep it together, woman!

while lifting her chin:] I'll learn nothing more just standing here; perhaps I'll remember how to dance.

[with a slight bow of her head:] If my memory is true, my name is Cecelia Ardenbury.