There are words that form easily on her tongue today. That's one of the things about speaking; it's infectious, it's easy, it's quick. Learning how to speak is one of the most intoxicating things that Effy's ever experienced, made all the more so thanks to the years upon years during which she fought against it. She knows what she'd say, were she able, that Kate should take it. The spliff was never the biggest problem, not really. It was running away from life, sure, but it wasn't the same as the pills, or the alcohol. It didn't make her see things, it simply laid upon the world a shadow which muted everything underneath.

There's probably little danger to be found in that.

But as always, Effy finds herself second-guessing. The power of a word or two can't be overstated. And the more she thinks about it, the more she knows, everything would be okay, everything, had she never spoken at all.

Tony would have fixed himself up anyway. Tony would have... taken longer to get on the phone, Tony wouldn't have chosen that day to call Chelle, Tony wouldn't have— and then Effy wouldn't have— and Freddie would still be alive.

So Effy shrugs, because she can't be the one to make the choices anymore. That's too much.