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[ Elena would like to move full speed ahead and skip that part, and she plans to. His mention of "little things" receive pretty much no reaction at all, except for a slight, tense exhale, and a little more force and speed in chopping her lettuce. (Concentrate on little things, while trapped in a prison? When who knows what's happening back home? If she'll get back - no.)
But his mention of going to an outdoor jacuzzi actually does give her something to focus on, which is to turn her head to tell him any manner of snarky things, but instead her grip falters and the knife slices one of her fingers.
She hisses, looking down to the blood starting to well and drip, lets out an exasperated and painful breath. Because of course. ] Can you please get me something? [ Her voice is terse, because obviously this is his fault. Or hers. Or no one's. But she's definitely not all here right now. How long ago was it she was washing blood off her own hands? ]