"You're telling me," Sandy muttered under her breath in agreement with Rachel's assessment of the stupid-ass tactic chosen in order to sedate her. She huffed out a breath and ran her hand over her face again, eyes watching Rachel carefully. She didn't want to like it here, she'd decided that it was going to suck, that no one else could be trusted, that this place was just as bad as the Texas one and the only shining light was that she knew Cal, Cas and Alejandro wouldn't let them drug her again.
She was tired. Her brain felt like it was utterly scrambled and it was noisy. Noisy enough that she couldn't even focus on Rachel in front of her, on the woman's thoughts. It would be easier if she could: she'd just be able to reach in and find what she needed to say to make the woman go away, she could just reach in and have a look around, understand what the woman wanted and testing to see if she was one of the mythical 'good ones'.
But right now she couldn't do it.
"I'm not a soldier." The words had taken a while to form on her lips, clawed out of the foggy recesses of her brain. "I'm not a fighter, so, uh, consider me a conscientious objector. Not involved. And in case you haven't read my file, I can view but not do." She wasn't about to mention her other abilities; she was testing the water a bit, to see how much Rachel knew about her, to see how much they had recorded on whatever file they had labelled with the number they'd probably designated her. "Can't do any mind control shit. Not all that offensive as a power."