"Well... yeah..." When he has a point, he has a point. She could have happily (or, at least, non-screamingly) lived out the rest of her days without the last few... however long it's been. She can't tell.

"Though." She adds, scuffing the toe of her boot along the ground, knocking off some fine-ground glass. "Hard to be quite as afraid of the Gagas, I'd imagine. They don't have alarms, or guns, or bullets, or... things." She suggests, with little flaily hand-motions that are pure her.