At the sight of the bear, Molly's smile widens just the slightest bit, her gaze resting on it for a moment before she looks back up at Jim. It's a sweet gesture, one that, at any other time, would probably be ridiculous, but that right now means a hell of a lot. With the state she's in, it's the smallest things, she's finding, that go the longest way, and if it makes her consider fleetingly that her family might have done the same for her, she pushes the thought down too quickly for it to matter. She wouldn't want them to see her like this anyway, wouldn't want the headlines that this having happened back home would bring with it.

"Like a truck hit me," she answers, tone deceptively light. What she really feels like is someone who was almost killed, but those are just the facts of the story, ones he probably knows already if he's here. "But they've given me the good stuff, yeah. Just enough that it won't knock me out." Absently, she ruffles the fur on top of the bear's little head. "He's cute," she says. "Thanks."