"Yours is a hell of a lot more developed than mine," she mutters, but then Trixie can primarily only use hers to destructive ends, so. She stays leaning against the bench, mentally going over everything that she'll need in the next few hours- she doesn't anticipate getting much sleep for a while, but that's all right, she's prepared for that. Her clothes are dirty and she's exhausted, but she can handle it.

"Verbena. That doesn't mean a damn thing to me unless you're secretly a plant, but does that mean you can figure out if she's going to need a CT scan? Concussions can look like they're over, but that doesn't necessarily mean there's not lasting damage to he brain."

She doesn't mean to be abrasive, per se, but it's pretty clear she doesn't even notice it if she is (and there's a significant chance of that).