She turns away from him, rubbing at one temple with the heel of her hand. That arm's not supposed to work, is it. Phantom feeling, worming into her dreams.

"God," she mutters. "Fine, whatever, do what you need to do. Gotta wake up sometime."

As if the dream is fucking taking her up on that, the ship responds with a distant, ominous rumble, the floor shaking enough that she needs to steady herself on the wall. Fantastic.

"The fuck was that," she says, turning slowly back to Rush.