[ the thing about Sheryl is that she's not very good at moping. Usually this would be a good trait, and most of the time, it was; but really, what it meant was that at a time like this, when the ground had been ripped out from under her, she was somewhat allergic to stopping and processing what had happened. Now that the immediate wailing and gnashing of teeth was over with, she had no idea how to think or feel about anything, or even more, how to show those feelings, if at all. So she keeps acting like she always has, except with something fragile underneath; the words are the same, but the motivation has completely changed. She isn't running away from thinking; she's completely stalled out on it.
She grabs one hand with the other to try and stop herself trembling. ] I'm fine, Kamina.
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She grabs one hand with the other to try and stop herself trembling. ] I'm fine, Kamina.