[Pessimism and fear seem to ooze out of Crona like a physical aura, culminating in a glance at that apple as if it contained the most deadly poison known to mankind.]

You called me miss. I don't think I've ever been called miss before, it's so polite, I don't think I can deal with having to know good manners right now.

[And that's when the door does actually lock, trapping Crona inside whether or not it would have been chosen.]

I guess I have to stay now. You're probably disappointed, I'm not a very good conversationalist and I'm bad company.