"Communicators," Marian echoes, staring now at the seemingly 'magical' healing. She fled in such a panic, and slowly recovering now that she's somewhere that has some semblance of being a real place, she pats down her pockets, finding the phone there.

But she doesn't even open or look at it yet. Voice flat, she asks, "What are you doing." Healing like that isn't a real thing. Nor regeneration, at least, not a human thing.