She much prefers him this way, she thinks--more his natural self. The skein of another person he'd assumed was a necessary one, but like how she plays up her own inclinations toward glamor to the point it becomes a caricature (she refers to this persona she wears as 'the Jessica Rabbit act'), it's nevertheless artificial. Though she conceals a lot of her reaction to the story he tells, her eyes are readable, and she has a visible response to the numbers involved--billions. That's a hard number to conceive of, but she's felt the collective heartbeat of the earthbound population at home, and she can imagine what it would be like to feel them snuffed out, too.

She resettles in her chair, a little bit still again--maybe too still, but she's prone to being back and forth that way.

"That situation sounds roughly as untenable as the one at home." So there are some universal constants, and they are all hideous. She presses her fingertips against her knees, absent-mindedly careful not to ding the fabric of her stockings with her nails. "Right now, I don't think we need Beko to be retired as a player...but we may want him to switch teams."

The idea has just occurred to her, but he'd make a good asset, and she's not necessarily opposed to using some deceit to persuade Beko to turn, as cruel as the thought does seem.

"...what happened, with the Magog? Did they at least push them out?"