She lingers for a moment in the lit hall. The electricity is something, yeah, but the house is still the product of twenty years worth of deglect with only the barest kind of care from the two of them. The peeling wallpaper's mostly been pulled down, so that's something. All the photos have been taken down, floors and windows cleaned, most of the claustrophobic smell aired out but--

There's something weird about Joel standing over the kitchen counter. And she could let it go, not poke - just get her butt upstairs and into bed. Because he's right. She probably should've been there hours ago. But. "Hey, your side's okay right?" Because she doesn't know how to ask if anything else is okay. "Your guts aren't going to go bleh" --she illustrates the noise by motioning with both hands from her belly toward the floor-- "Are they?"