"I hope so!" Becka said, thinking it would be pretty messed up of whoever was in charge if they didn't give them that at the very least. "A sphygmomanometer," she offered, fighting back a wide smile. "Somehow I've got a feeling that the blood pressure in this group might be kinda off." Because though they might be wearing street clothes and eating food that was cooked fresh, they were still in a prison, and there were bound to be anxieties and such with all of that. "Rebekah, but I'm not picky about nicknames if it's too much a mouthful," she offered. People had a tendency to slip nicknames in without asking, so she figured it best to head them off with letting them know she didn't really care what related nickname they used for her.