Stitches right eye swivelled lazily downwards independently to its counterpart, momentarily giving her a rather confused perspective of current events, but made squeezing between a girl who already didn't seem to be doing all to well and a 6'4 Goliath who's hairstyle pinged to a new one periodically with the fidgeting of a bangle on one arm no harder than usual. She would have liked to have be unable to admit she didn't have enough experience in squeezing between two such people to know how hard it was usually and thus make such an comparison but star crossed elevator accident victims make the best heart donors. This sort of begs how the elevator victim's hairstyle changed so rapidly, but its a funny story for another time... Alright, I'll give you a clue, it was to do with the contents of the purse and the dinner trolley. 

Too busy reminiscing, she forgot to fix her eye before attempting to reassure the poor mixed raced girl and smiled innocently, eye wobbling in its socket before mouthing, "Don't worry, its going to be ok". Content with the friendly impression she surely made on the girl and her fast paced networking with her future donors she turned back to face the front awaiting what everyone else was waiting for. Instruction. Presumably, Stitches was no mind-reader.

The atmosphere was surprisingly tense, largely due to two or three personalities (no names) but otherwise everyone seemed to be unprepared for instant carnage that was about to separate the nervous few's upper halves from the lower, at least something equally horrific had to occur for them to be so stressed already.