Gisela's mind was still spinning from the mission... if she could even call it that. In truth, all three parties had bungled the assignment to such an extent that it was, quite frankly, embarrassing. Beyond embarrassing. It had been... was there an emotion beyond completely and utterly humiliating? A name for the terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that just kept churning and churning. For the inky black miasma that kept leaking from the endless abyss in her gut? For the sneers and mocking laughter that she heard from every corner of her mind and beyond? Darkness crept from her mind, dripping from her ears and eyes out into the real world and curled around her throat. Terrible snakes of shadow that wrapped themselves around her neck and squeezed and squeeze and squeezed.

There was no running away from them. She had tried. Her ghostly footfalls barely registering in her own ears as she ran... somewhere... anywhere. Doctor Stevens would call this a crisis, but she didn't want to call her. Her normal everyday trauma was one thing but... She couldn't let her know what an ineffective soldier that she was. She wouldn't. Wouldn't risk her looking down on her. Wouldn't risk her leaving her. The thought made the snakes around Gisela's throat convulse painfully. She would have cried out if she could breathe, so instead all that erupted from her lips was a sickly, choked off sound.

By the time Gisela arrived at a door she hadn't aimed for, she was shaking from either exertion or misery. Why was she here? What reason did Delphine have to help her? It made more sense to go to Shannon but... the older woman regarded Gisela as one might regard a fixture on the wall. And Gisela didn't know why that hurt so much.

The knock was soft and hesitant, and it took everything Gisela was not to turn tail and run from the woman within.