"I think so." She's still bewildered and not a fan of what she's wearing, but that seems to be an inescapable trend for this particular dream. "They've patched me up, at least." Maybe she could will the injury away, like the Balladeer managed with his gunshot wound, but that would require a bit more peace and focus than they've been afforded since this nonsense began.

For the moment, she lifts her hand and frowns at the tube that seems to have been inserted beneath her skin. Ugh. Sometimes she wonders why people extoll the wonders of modern medicine when so much of it is just ghastly. She grits her teeth and yanks out the needle, then swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Help me up?" she asks, just a bit breathlessly. "Maybe we can get out of here." At which point she presumes she'll end up dressed in something a bit less awkward.