Someday she'll apologize for how she's falling apart, kept together only by guilt and determination. Her mind can't decide if it's needless or not far enough, if she should be sobbing like him or trying to cheer him up. Somewhere in the middle, she hides behind her hair, only lifting when the go ahead is called out.

It's a bit more of a struggle to reach the next one, buried deep within the wires, and she pulls back enough to assess the situation. Her eyes flit to the screen, read, shift back. Her lips pull back in a smile lacking all joy.

"Shut up Psii." She whispers, hating herself for it. Her hand lands on the knob finally, pulling it out in a quicker harder jerk. They're easier now that she knows what she's doing. If doing something three times can fit that bill.