She looks at him for a moment, silently. Knowing full well the state of her LED, her fingers reach up to touch it anyway. Under other circumstances, she might try to cover it with her hair, as she has done so many times on the islands. There seems to be increasingly less point in doing so.

Still. The implied notion of having been observed, and being unaware of it, adds to her general feeling of unease. It's nothing to do with him, specifically - it's just a familiar echo of home.

"No. It isn't usually like this. Have you seen it on blue? That would be the default."