Lee looks surprised; she just took it for granted that she'd stay, and... do what, throw more rocks at the cops? Break a few more windows? She doesn't even know. There's a simmering anger still there under her skin that is reignited every time she sees someone limping or nursing a black eye or counting how many teeth they have left.
She looks at Michael, her brow furrowing. It didn't occur to her that he wouldn't be right there on the front lines ready to throw some rocks, too. “I'm fine...” She's up, she's talking, obviously she's perfectly fine... Lee thinks she just slept it off, and whatever lingering effects she can just get through by pulling herself up by the bootstraps. She's always like this.
“I can't leave, everything is just starting — they never — the cops are scared of us. When this is going to happen again? Someone has to do something.”