There's a moment in which she stops wringing her hands and looks like she has absolutely no idea what to do with them in the meantime. After a moment, she folds her arms over her abdomen and regards the door with narrowed eyes. When she meets his gaze, her expression is far more neutral - there's no reason to be upset with him.

"Long enough that I'd like to leave now." She reaches up, idly scratching lightly at her jaw before letting her hand drop again. (There are faint burn scars, a bit red but healing, at her jawline, down the side of her neck to disappear underneath her collar. The hair on that side of her face is in a bit of disarray, the ends burnt and ragged.) "I'm sorry. I haven't been able to get the door open. Nothing I've tried has worked."

A beat, then she smiles; she's realized that she forgot to answer the next question and she's honestly a bit touched by the concern. "I am all right. Just frustrated."