There's something in it, the worn look of her expression, that has Kurt suspecting that she's never really been able to dream. That her life's caged her in, dusty and worn, chaining her to a reality that doesn't leave enough space to stand, to imagine, to run wild with possibility. Her personality might put as much of a damper on it as anything else, but at the end of the day, personalities are always shaped by situations. Kurt knows that he wouldn't be half as bold as he is now, half as proud of who he is, were it not for the acceptance of his father, the love of his friends. He wouldn't be capable of even thinking about Broadway without his father supporting him over time.

Here, though, things are supposed to be possible. Here, they're supposed to get a blank slate. So Kurt peers over at her, the luck that she's sent his way, and decides that he doesn't need it. Not half as much as she does.

"I'm hoping that I won't require luck to get where I'm going, but..." Kurt smiles thinly, just for a fraction of a second. "Maybe you should keep the luck for yourself. And learn to dream a little."