It's very insistent.
She cannot bring herself to move. She tries - she does; intellectually she knows it's the smart thing to do - but - she can't. Cannot get up and go to him.
"Do you think you can, now? If it doesn't stick - if you don't mean it right - and he hears you -"
"I could - if I know when you're going to do it - stand in view of his window?" Etty suggests slowly. "...Or you could come in while I'm. There."
"I don't know if I could see you from his window," she says. "And I don't know how to safely check."
"I can look out the window while I'm there, see what parts of the outside it frames," says Etty. "...But your eyes wouldn't be adjusted to moonlight, would they."
"So - next time he takes me - if you think you can - then, you can come in after. He always falls asleep when he's through with me," shivers Etty.
"Okay," she says. "If I think I can. I will. And then I won't have to worry about if it'll work with you not there."
"If I do, then, maybe it will be less - immediately unpleasant - but it would feel like giving up," Etty whispers.