Of all the possible things she could have said, that isn't one that Gleb is expecting to hear. It would have made more sense if she'd left him as quickly as possible, knowing what she does now, different as that makes everything. They were friends once, or he thinks they were, inasmuch as they could be given how very briefly he knew her before he followed her to Paris. She'd looked happy to see him when she first saw him here. Were it not for this place, he never would have seen her again. This was never a situation that was on the table, even ignoring the very implausibility of being here in the first place and having to tell her about things that, as far as he's concerned, she lived through. There's no reason she should want anything to do with him, just as there was no reason for her to be thanking him before they left her apartment.

He nearly asks why, but between the look on her face and her hand on his arm, he doesn't really have the heart to question her. If she wants to know, he might as well tell her.

"Alright," he replies, nodding once as he carefully moves out of the way of people walking out of the train station, reaching for one of the doors, though he lingers like she did before they set out for here. The smart thing to do would be to turn and walk away and put all of this behind him, but evidently he hasn't been doing much that's very smart of late. Now is no exception. "I'll tell you."