Better was so hilariously relative that Misha had to laugh. Well, she tried, anyway. It morphed into a sob in the way that sounds tended to do after a long cry but the intent was there and she shuddered, waiting until it passed, and decidedly did not raise her head while laying over Victor von Doom. It was like staying still when there was a predator trying to find you. No sudden movements or anything like that.

The question was supposed to be a sarcastic jab, but Misha wasn't going to throw it away just because of that. Taking stock of herself, there was a lot wrong. Her mind may have been coming back to her, but the pure shock of reliving that nightmare had only exasperated the tension in her extremities while also turning them into goo. There was no way she could stand and her mind was too exhausted to cheat her way into it for as long as they would need. "I dunno if I can get my legs moving," she said after a moment. If Victor was going to make the offer, facetious or not, she had no pride left to injure that day by taking him up on it.