Connie gulps. Conversation. That was a thing that she could do. To keep herself grounded. Right, Ena was still... right. Connie had a job to do. If she just focused on that, she could get out of this in no time and schedule an appointment with a therapist. "I don't think I can go back," she hoarsely whispers. Even though this was all a dream and survivors didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things, Connie's heart lightens a little as Ena's companions pull the woman out of the rubble. "Is she, um..." she asks Ena, gesturing towards the body.