It's down now. Her hair. The hours of her day, the excuses and even lies she's told at this point, don't really leave time for light amusements, not without people who would try to find out why she's suddenly gone, suddenly apart, suddenly quiet again. While she works only at finding a way to be here. Up or down it doesn't matter. The only matter of these three and half days has been the tenacious refusal to let him die.

Even if -- as she's frozen watching his fingers touch the curl of her hair -- she has no clue what do with him alive.
It takes a second to unfreeze her heart, her throat, and nod just barely. "I thought you went down. With the Gambit."