The blue licks of mist keep rising from under the plushie pile, but they soon dissipate. Phaedra's arm, reformed, sticks up through the top, shaking weakly with curled fingers.
Phaedra: ...Ughh. I'm... okay.
Pavel and Katja both sigh PHEW with relief.
Phaedra remains under the pile, and speaks, with the other two listening.
Phaedra: Sorry... I guess I'm still a little ...unstable. I just realized... my mother knows now. EVERYONE knows. It's... a lot to imagine.
Her eyes poke through the pile, looking tired.
Phaedra: I hope you didn't see... whatever was left of me.
Pavel bites his lower lip.
Pavel: Yeah. I threw up.
Phaedra rises from the pile with a stunned look on her face.
Phaedra: Oh. That's... informative.