Tess' eyes narrow slightly. Not quite upset, but close—she's taking what Nova's saying at face value, for the moment (though that buzzy, inhuman train of thought in the back of her mind is still trying to hyper-analyze everything. "It's my Friendlies. Plenty've people got 'em, it's what makes shipsuitin' possible." She glances down at the odd, snug pressure-suit-thing she's wearing. "I'm plenty fine. I was just havin' a bad dream, that was all 'bout it." An extremely bad dream, though it seems like her mood and mindset have already recovered from it. Odd, that—it's the kind of mental whiplash that would normally suggest some kind of disorder.