James and Rosabelle sit across from each other in the dining hall. James, distracted by attraction and trying to keep things casual, notes Rosabelle’s minimal food choice (an apple) and tremor in her right hand. He explains dining rules and program basics, emphasizing that participants have served prison terms and are in a reintegration phase.

When James mentions feeding people in prison, Rosabelle’s sharp reaction and visible distress prompt him to name her emotions, which escalates her anxiety. She fears he is reading her mind and asks if he is connected, wondering if “they” are watching her through him. James denies telepathy but she fixates on a technology she calls the Nexus, describing it as “extremely advanced science,” implying prior invasive monitoring.

James reframes his insight as simple attention, which embarrasses Rosabelle. She counters that she can read him, then delivers a cutting, accurate assessment of James’s persona: using humor and charm as distraction, pretending to be reckless, weak, or foolish while being capable and guided by a strict moral code; smiling when angry; and being covered in scars while simmering with rage. The critique rattles James but also deepens his fascination.

Attempting to steer the interaction, James calls her words mean to reset the tone. In the exchange that follows, Rosabelle corrects him about her past: she did not choose to be a killer but was born into it, following her parents’ wishes. James recognizes this as significant intel suggesting early, elite training and a wealthy background, and he briefly wonders about her sister and absent parents but does not press further.

The moment is interrupted by their intoxicated-seeming neighbor, who loudly approaches and invades Rosabelle’s space. As he lunges toward her, Rosabelle swiftly stabs him in the neck with her fork and tears the wound, leaving him gurgling blood. She remains calm, wipes the utensil, stands, and asks James what to do with their trays, her expression returning to a placid, unreadable state.