Her brows raise in complete disbelief, triggered by both the sharp tone of his voice and the accusation that he throws her way, oversimplified. If anything, it only solidifies the belief in her mind that this has been needed, that she can't stay in a romantic relationship by someone who never seems to understand. The more she's been out with her other friends, the more she's run around to see the whole of the island in all of its beauty, the more she knows that his lifestyle isn't for her. She can't stay calm, she can't remain in one place, and most of all, she just feels uncomfortable watching everyone else throw themselves away with such abandon. It isn't only about altered judgment. It's about the addiction, the way that this takes a toll on their bodies, the way that for all that she's been immortal before, her mortality on the island reminds her that even an addiction to pot might curtail what she gains from the island. From her friends.

But the problem runs deeper than his hobbies, and along the lines of how overlooked her emotions seem to be.

"Chris, stop," she says, quiet. "You keep on saying that my feelings don't make sense. That, like, I need a new start, or that I should try new things— Chris, I tried. You can blame me all you want, but it's just not working for me. It's not that what we said at the fire didn't mean anything, it's that we've learned more about each other since then, and it's just— I can't do this. And if you think it's just about parties then... yeah, this has to end."