James' words managed to filter through the shock, and she nodded gratefully, relaxing visibly at the promise from both of them. Rick's voice was a steadying force. He was the kind of man you listened to without asking questions, who you knew would make the important decisions in any crisis. Right now, she needed that.
Once they were inside the apartment, she didn't even register the change in locale, but she did look over her shoulder, as if 601 was right there, right behind her. She didn't even have the presence of mind to force herself to be rational, so she just looked toward James' comforting voice thankfully.
The camisole she was wearing was soaked through, and she was sticky from Cole's blood and her own, so she didn't want to sit down anywhere, didn't want to ruin anything in the apartment (at least that was the only thing her mind could really concentrate on in that moment), so she swayed on her feet where she was. "No one died," she told Rick as James left the living room. It was a question and a statement, and it defiantly told him to try to contradict her. It was good sign, the tilt of her chin, of security blankets slipping back into place.