That was a fair point. Misha still didn't want to let it lie that she was incapable of pulling her own weight. Signs of outright weakness were forbidden as far as she was concerned; her fear of Doctor Doom far outweighed any exhaustion she might have felt. When it came down to it, Doom did not hold her in the same hate-rivalry regard as he did the Four. She was just some extra tagging along with an interesting power but ultimately little importance. Being anything but strong was not an option. "And in the meantime, we'll be strolling into this little podunk town like ain't no thing. Hope you're ready to lie your ass off."

She saw that second, saw the reconsideration. Trying to get inside Doom's head right now wasn't where she wanted to be, so she took it for what it was. Looking the gift horse in the mouth right now was practically suicidal. "Great. So do I. We're almost there."