This is a spectacle. Nadia watches as Josephine boards, looking past her at how different her circumstances appear to be. Hers is a silent greeting and one without any of the traditional greeting methods; she bears no smiles, nor nods, merely speculative contemplation that sinks well into her hazel-eyed face. The million-yard stare persists until the helicopter lifts, and this time when the order to brace comes, Nadia's ready: she clutches her restraints in both hands, knuckles going white.

She jostles much less when then aftershock of the explosion rocks the aircraft, nostrils flaring briefly.

Once everyone's settled, as the previously queried question is once more tossed out, Nadia's reticent - but speaks first: "We already risked death to pick up one, we may as well pick up the last. Seems a waste otherwise."