Wanda looked up from where she'd been sprawled out on her cot and watched him, waiting for him to speak and when he did she quirked an unhappy smile. "About how you'd expect. But honestly, not that bad. Tony walked out-" she paused and shrugged. "Steve listened, though. We're not okay, but there's maybe a chance we will be. Eventually." Which was better than nothing and a definite improvement on how things had stood between them during the last few days.
She rolled over onto her stomach and rested her hand on a chin, staring at him. "I don't think anything'll be good until we're out of here." Actually, nothing would be close to good until there was a cure and life could go back to some semblance of normalcy. Wanda didn't ever expect that would happen and the best she could hope for in all of this was just getting by. 'Good' or 'happy' wouldn't really play into it. Regardless, there still had to be better- maybe not safer, but better- places than this horrible prison.