Greta listens to their conversation with rapidly unfurling discomfort. Iman's refusal to even try to fix it surprises her as much as it evidently does Rush, but she's still half-expecting Rush to talk her around. Then it abruptly stops being about just her arm and starts being about how worthless Iman apparently thinks herself to be without it, and Greta looks back over her shoulder in astonishment that quickly gives way to indignation. She lets the kettle clatter back onto the burner and she turns to face the table, hands akimbo.

"No," she snaps, aghast. "'Nobody'?! How--how can you say that?" She can feel her face flushing, and this is probably a mistake, snapping at her again, but she can't just let that awful sentiment go unchallenged. "Don't you dare presume to tell me that you're worth nothing to me without your arm. I didn't even know it was a prosthetic until a few weeks ago! Was everything that happened before then worthless?" She cuts herself off, quivering a little with the effort of holding herself back - not just from saying more, but from marching right up to the table and doing something truly regrettable, like whacking Iman upside the head.