[Her grip on her helmet increases, but it is not of anger. It's of melancholy. She doesn't know how much could she tell him. But for the things they had gone through today, he deserved to know some of what was happening.
Daisy does not answer at first. She looks at the window of her room.]
[Action]
Daisy does not answer at first. She looks at the window of her room.]
My home.