She doesn't glare at him, not for the look he gives her as realization dawns upon him, but she's grumbling like a disgruntled cat--and promptly settles on her side, facing the door.

"I'm not frightened," she's quick to say, "I'm tired of looking at walls."

Shifting walls that made being in one place like this impossible. Little cracks which shone light brightly into her closed eyes.

For however much she's not frightened, it doesn't take her long to scoot back so she's pressed against his front.