Her mouth twists subtly. She supposes. Yeah. It's kind of a joke, isn't it? They bring her here and then don't know how to deal with her. They expect her to be okay, to take it all at once and easy, like she shouldn't be mad as a whole nest of hornets at almost everything around her.

"Do what you want," she says simply. "I think I'm going to head out for some fresh air." To get away from this.

She stands and brushes her skirt straight, waiting only for some sign of acknowledgement or, more cynically, permission.