Hap rolls her eyes. Adept at it, comfortable doing it, however she wants to interpret it would be accurate. He can't be the only person who hasn't immediately taken to haphazardly swinging wide the door to his psyche.

He casts a glare towards town at the exasperating news that these people are stuck over a hundred years in the past. "Then maybe it's time they learn." Not that it'll do any good if they can't manufacture or import tubing. Voicing that would be pointless; Hap is venting his frustration with his circumstances more than anything else.

In silence, he counts out the seconds and measures her pulse. Elevated from the ordeal, it's still slower than it should be. Her bandages are nearly soaked through from the stress. Dropping his hand, he tells her, "You can't afford to rest. We have to keep going."