His unwillingness to allow her to interject actually earns him more respect in Odessa's book, along with the fact that he doesn't immediately apologize or ask what happened, how, or why. But she's still slightly annoyed, and it's signified in the way she draws in a breath through her nose. It's not so dramatic as to imply some sense of long-suffering, but it's there.

"If you must know," he doesn't need to know, "I wasn't sure Melkor was ever really in my head. Not until I rebelled. And now that there seems to be nothing there, I..." Odessa falls quiet to give herself the time to think of the right words, rather than babble on in hopes of arriving at her point. The silence is brief, mercifully for her. "The absence is noted, and it feels strange. Upsetting. But that should be a good thing." Which is really why it makes her so mad.