Moira watches him snort and rolls her eyes. Some things never change, she supposes, stupid cops and their dumbass biases included. She can't believe she expected him to actually let up on his ridiculous theory that her and her family (apart from her mother) had anything to do with the tragedies in his own family. But she doesn't want to waste the energy trying to prove him wrong. Not when their own lives are at stake.

"You mistake my meaning," she clarifies once she finishes her own plate. "My mother is toying with both of us for her own amusement." She toys with her fork, as she thinks of her next words. "If she wanted me dead, she'd have encouraged me to take my favorite boat out to my favorite deep sea fishing spot and sent a freak storm right out after me, cleaning up after my body and her own hands."

She doesn't bother hiding the bitterness or anger. She's never confided this in anyone, not even her younger siblings. But if she's potentially going to die in this labyrinth, she wants someone else to know the things her mother is capable of.