His description was as cold, clinical, and to the point as the surroundings providing the backdrop for their current conversation. Still, Charlie listened carefully, comparing his words to her own experiences. The voices she'd heard were certainly not things she'd ever heard before in her life, but they had struck a chord in her that was so terribly familiar.
But she openly laughed at his question, regardless.
"Theories? What do I look like to yah, a fuckin' scientist?" Her hands waved to present the black security guard uniform she was wearing, in lieu of a lab coat and rubber gloves. Of course she had a good theory for her own episode the night the power had gone out, but advertising her condition to all and sundry was not at the top of the list of priorities for her. In the end, she'd prefer to pretend that none of it had happened, much like she pretended a good portion of her life simply had not occurred because she didn't like the outcomes.
"No, I don't. I mean, as far as I knew, until now, shit only happened to me an'-" She stopped short at that point, unsure if she should reveal that Rylee too had been hurt, possibly worse so than she had. And yet his grievous wound had disappeared the next morning, while her symptoms had not. That was something to consider as well.