It's been a slow-going thing, working her confidence back up, managing not to look over her shoulder with every step she takes. Molly would admit to that much, even knowing how illogical it is given the circumstances of what happened to her, because she knows it's reasonable, too. Right now, though, she feels like herself, and it's a fucking relief. She looks like herself, too, mouth already pulling into a crooked, pleased smile as she tugs the door open. Just the fact of not having to worry about the pull of stitches or the scab initially left in their wake does a lot for her well-being. It won't do half as much, though, as this, as actually getting her life back on track again, doing what only injuries have prevented her from losing herself in up until now.

"Hey," she says, stepping aside to leave the doorway open. She's half-tempted to kiss him now, not to bother with pleasantries when they both know what this is about, but it seems too much like the greeting of people actually in a relationship, and that's the last impression she wants to give. "Come on in."