The hands on hers are the fleeting contact breaking through the patina of something she doesn't want to put a name to, and she draws into herself further, a necessary tightening of her grip around her own arms. When the hand shifts to her cheek she can only look at him, eyes dark with uncertainty.

He's right, says Raleigh. Well. Kinda. I owe you kind of a lot, don't I?

Mako shakes her head once in a poor effort to clear the ghosts from it. Raleigh remains firmly lodged in the hindmost parts of her brain as Yancy Becket is torn out by a kaiju's jaws in staggered repetition, but she pushes up from the chair and rises and follows Johnny and nods.