Lydia's hands are held out in front of her, one of them loosely holding the barrel of the laser and they're still shaking, but at least it's not so bad. ...it's bad. No, it's bad. She's in pieces on the inside right now and she realizes that she really would've killed those men if she had to and the very idea of that; of killing someone, even to survive, scares her. The idea that she could is terrifying. The idea that she would makes her feel sick.

Lydia ignores the question for the time being and takes a deep breath, finally taking his hands and guiding them as far apart as they'll go. She pushes the nose of the laser right up against the zip tie so that it covers the entire surface area of the tiny chamber and flicks a finger over the trigger, quick and light. The zip tie snaps and drops to the ground and whether Barry likes it or not, she needs to know that she's okay or that she'll be okay, or just something. His arms are free and she's barely on her feet because she's trembling so hard, so Lydia hugs him.

Hiding her face against this practical stranger's chest, she pretends that he's Stiles and that he'll know exactly what to say to make her feel better and Lydia closes her eyes, shaking her head against him. "I'm so freaking far from okay it's not even funny," she confesses, voice muffled against his jumpsuit.