In that awful state in between nightmare land and reality, while Sophie was being woken up and the fine line was certainly blurred; she sat up quickly. Ryan had already retreated and while Sophie stared at him, blinking away the confusion, she was piecing together that all of that had only been a terrible nightmare. He wasn't a zombie, they weren't at that awful place, and... she wiped at her face. Shit, she'd actually cried for real. She wiped her face dry quickly, while Ryan was digging through his backpack. Maybe he hadn't noticed.

She took the things he handed to her cautiously, without a word. Then she placed them on the couch beside her. Even though eating, and drinking was something she probably desperately needed to do, she just couldn't. She was all messed up, in her head, and she just... didn't feel like eating, or talking, or sleeping, or anything. Her eyes had taken on some of that warm hazel color again, finally, and they fell on Ryan with a frown. What was he looking at? Suddenly, Sophie became very self conscious, not something natural for the girl in the least.

Probably she looked awful. She was a train wreck, and he couldn't look away. And it was his damn fault. "I have to get out of here," she breathed suddenly, standing from the couch. The blanket fell, and for the first time she realized that Ryan must have covered her. She frowned again. The damn white haired wonder! He didn't make any sense at all! It didn't matter. She wasn't going to hang around here and get stared at like some freak, waiting to be used as some sort of pawn again.

It was obvious that the girl was suddenly angry again. Quite moody, it would seem. But who could blame her? She grabbed her bag, yanking the sandals that strapped up her calves from it and dropping them on the floor. Then she grabbed the deep red cloak from the bag and pulled it over her head. At least it would hide the bruises and holes and the damned tattoo, and her thinned figure. She even pulled the hood over her hair, and it partially covered her face. She pulled her bag over her head so that it hung over one shoulder across her body.

She was so angry, that she didn't even stop to put her shoes on, instead, just plucking them off the floor, she clutched the straps in one hand. Finally she turned an angry glare to Ryan. Her hazel eyes were back to their normal color, though they were almost hidden in the hood of the cloak. "I don't, I don't even know," she stuttered in her anger, "If I should be... thanking you, or cursing you." She shook her head.

Her voice shook slightly, perhaps not something noticeable, something out of the anger, excitement, and partial weakness. She thought on that. There was no way she could open a portal yet, not in this state. But she couldn't force herself to hang around Ryan for another minute! She crossed the room to the door, reaching for the handle before pausing and spinning around to face Ryan again. "You... you're! You don't make any sense!"

"One minute, you're a kidnapper, and the next! Well, you... you're still a kidnapper! Why did you come back for me? Just couldn't shake the high of kidnapping? You're disgusting. Despicable! How do you sleep at night!?" Her voice had gone from low, shaking in anger, to a louder, angry sort of shouting. "Covering me up with a, stupid, blanket! Offering water, and, and what? What are you doing? Standing guard?" she'd added mockingly.

Tears stung at Sophie's eyes again. Was she even making any sense? If Ryan tried to approach her for any reason, maybe to try and calm her or try to quiet her as to not draw attention, Sophie would shove at him, perhaps try and slap him, and more than likely, continue doing those things so long as he'd let her. She hated him. She'd tell him that. Yeah. That's what she'd do. "I hate you!" she shouted. "I hate you! I hate you!" she sobbed, her words growing quieter.