At that, Jenny couldn't help but smile and roll her eyes just a bit. She shot a look at Martha; the universally recognized look of amused but exasperated female solidarity in reaction to a particularly troublesome but beloved male.

"How long have you been here, and you're stirring up a vespiform's nest already?" she scolded the bathroom door lightly. (As if she had any room to talk. She'd been on Raxacoricofalapatorius for all of an hour before all hell had broken loose, and she'd considered that an oddly delayed reaction. It was genetic, it had to be.) Jenny's smile quickly fell, though, despite all reassurances.

"If you're alright, why are you still hiding in the bathroom, then? Come out and let Martha have a look at you, even if it's not bad."