Yes, well. That shouldn't matter. Trauma is a fact of life, one that's expected and prepared for. Survival ought to be the end of it. Maketh hates that it's sticking to her in this place - the look on Henry's face when he done what she'd ordered, how Chris had tried to help her in the aftermath. Even Lilith, eyes wide, hands squeezing tight on Maketh's arms. Trying to make it better.

Maketh clenches her fists tight. Forces them to relax. Sit still. No squirming. Back straight, head up, eyes forward.

"I don't have a head injury," she murmurs, though that's not what Lilith asked - not really.

Maketh clears her throat. "It's...something we learned in the Academy. To resist interrogation."