[ There's a multitude of words not being said right now, he can almost feel the physical weight of them even just from the tone of her silence. He doesn't have to look at her to know that some complicated mix of emotions is currently playing over her face, even though he can't tell what it is.

It stops him from getting belligerent about this; obviously, there's a reason Daisy is resisting him buying her a plane ticket, and it's not just her being polite. ]

Honey. [ His voice is low, gentle. The way you'd talk to a spooked animal, or a child that's woken up from a nightmare. ] It's okay.

[ He doesn't understand why she can't get a plane ticket, or why she won't entertain the idea of him getting her one. She's right. He doesn't understand her financial baggage, her background, anything like that. She's never brought it up before, and he comes from the sort of comfortable middle-class anglo-saxon lifestyle that means he's had the privilege to never worry about where his next meal came from. Sure, he has a big family, and money was always a little tight, but he was never homeless, never had to worry that he wouldn't be able to find warm clothes when it was cold, never had to try and live off Top Ramen and day-old bread. ]

You don't need to repay me. [ It's only two hundred dollars. At least he's smart enough not to say that out loud. He has a feeling it won't go over well. ] I've got a miles card. I can scrape together enough points for a ticket for you.