It's stupid to feel so shaken by something so small, and yet the hooks are dug in, she can't snap free even as she tries; she stays there staring out. It feels childish. She kills monsters. She's going to live (and die) doing just that. And somehow, she's jumping at a litany of fucking mirrors that won't stop appearing everywhere.

What the hell is wrong with her?

Jo's a little slow on her turnback. Nothing like the fluid smoothness of normality. Her gaze flicks a few places first before her shoulders relax ever so marginally. "Yeah. I guess." Her mouth closes before she can apologize uselessly for being a basket case.