Maggie gave a half-sarcastic thumbs-up as Dr. Lecter left, thinking that one over. So given that definition, she was pretty sure she'd just lived through a technical apocalypse. Interesting. Also, not nearly as entertaining as old movies made it look.
She removed her scarf and jacket, setting them neatly on the chair. It really was too warm in here for those pieces of barely protective gear, and if it turned out that she had been shedding virus since she'd woken up here, they wouldn't do a damn bit of good, anyway. At least she was at a hospital, and presumably there was an incinerator somewhere. She could make a request for her dogs to be seen to, and--
Ugh. Maggie shook her head. She did not live through the past year to be so calm about dying here. She picked up a magazine and started flipping through it defiantly, barely even seeing the pictures.