[The touch comes as a shock. There's a flinch, a slow stutter to her footwork, but Fukawa does follow along. Cowed in part by her own humiliation, but also his enduring nudity. The broad hand at her back. Her gaze is cast resolutely to the other side and she bows her head low. No one passes them, thank goodness. She'd have died on the spot.

The question makes her roll her eyes.]

It w-would take hours to list them all... [She was never a welcome presence. Let's put it that way.] Th-there are easier ways to earn sainthood than to take pity on me. Or are you so bored that any old p-project will do?