Sara can sympathize, and even if her expression softens, it doesn't give the things it really makes her think. Just for a second. Just the flicker of a candle flame. Martin, and Rip, and Jax. Laurel. Her dad. Things you think you can't survive until you have to. Until you wonder if there is a too much, or there is only that. Survival. There and gone in the blink, even if it leaves a greater weight in her heart as she nods.

"He has to find out who he is, that isn't what--" very much not who; that's on purpose -- "Hydra made him," Sara says with the economy of bluntness that avoids being rude or judgemental, without giving up honesty. Even alludes to understand.

"There are a few of us here who knows what that's like."
Even if she means Mick, more than herself. They didn't choose it.