When Kenzi launches into it, Rumlow just goes into listening mode. Stands there, gently touching her as if they're sharing intimacies between them rather than delving into memories buried by God only knows what. Kenzi isn't wrong about what she's saying sounding odd. Cops but not cops, magic, probable werewolves. It doesn't stop there, either, continuing to list of things that ought to be in a young adult novel instead of reality.

And yet, really, Rumlow can't bring himself not to believe her. She's got no reason to lie, for one -- it would only make her seem incompetent. And two, he's aware of the existence of Gods, so. Cops that turn into wolves? Not that unbelievable. Probably not very common, at least. It's weird to picture, and it throws his theories about Kenzi in a new direction, but he can manage.

What he isn't so great at is when she clearly remembers someone important to her and starts to cry. This is not good. Rumlow is terrible with criers. He sort of shifts his face into something resembling sympathy (though he does feel bad on a conceptual level, it's hard to get there emotionally).

"Hey, it's all right. We've both forgotten people," he says, hands at her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. "Tell me about her," he says, hoping maybe it will distract her away from her guilt.