[ Immediately, Deely's countenance shifts. Her mouth pops open, brow furrowing sharply in raw indignation. ]

I'm sorry, hysteria? [ She's immediately hissing at him now in barely more than a whisper. Sure, it makes sense to be keeping her voice down, but in the defence of Deely from about a minute ago, the stranger she's locked in a room with just produced a gun. ] What are you, some sort of plague doctor? Are you gonna diagnose me with wandering womb syndrome and prescribe a thousand leeches? And what, actually, the fuck is up with your hand, by the way?