Antigone reached for Bia's number and found her hand was trembling, just enough to make her pincer grip on the scrap of paper harder than it should have been. She pushed the paper into her pocket, and gave them both a smile, one each. "Thanks," she said, and thought about admitting that calling for help was not her strong point. Was maybe her weakest. Maybe just above 'admitting she was wrong'. "Sorry I've made your night such a drama."