It occurs to her, far too late, that perhaps the reason Rush found her earlier state so intolerable was because he doesn't have half so tight a lid on his own emotions as she'd thought. There are sizable cracks forming in his poised veneer, and Greta turns back to Iman, not wanting to see it because she's certain that he doesn't want her to see it.

But it's there, and she can't ignore it, either.

"Yes," she says simply, hands folded in her lap. It's her turn to be reassuring. "Of course she will. You got her out of there, and you..." she trails off, inclining her head toward the sling. She doubts he's proud of what he did to Iman's arm, but it was necessary. "You saved her," she concludes, her voice wavering, but only a little.

She glances at Rush, then looks back to Iman, who shows no signs of waking. "She is my dearest friend, here," she admits, quiet and almost conversational. "I... I am glad you were there to help her." She refuses to consider what might have happened if he hadn't been there, and it doesn't matter, anyway. He was, and Iman will be fine.

Perhaps this was too much. She looks down at her hands and tries not to fidget.