Greta watches him out of the corner of her eye as he speaks, privately wishing he'd put his shirt back on now that they're out of immediate danger. Is he really not the least bit embarrassed? Then again, considering the company he kept, perhaps she shouldn't be surprised. Propriety seemed to be in short supply, generally speaking.

"How?" she asks. She can't quite remember how the last dream ended, or if she was at all responsible for waking herself up, but she remembers enough chaos to guess that 'being startled' won't cut it. "I suppose I could pinch you, but I doubt that compares to getting shot."

She also doubts her own dreams would be much safer. The memory of that cliff's edge yawns open in her mind, and she gives herself a little shake to dismiss it before crunching over to where he's sitting. "And what happens if I wake up and you don't? You're just left alone with that lot?" She can't say she likes that idea. At least if she's here, she can remind him that none of this is real.

Speaking of. She nods toward his shirt. "May I see that? I want to try something."