She doesn't say thank you or anything else, just gulping it down gratefully- not caring how it tasted, that it's not the neatest thing in the world, or anything else. She nods as the mug is empty - only some twenty seconds later, the warm ceramic in her hands. "How's your leg?" She's still looking down at the mug, rather than up at Klaus, and at least this time it's not that she's pretending that she's fine, it's that she's pretty overwhelmed. She can take this in bits and pieces, and that she smashed his leg - she remembered it, the way it felt when the bone gave way - it the piece she's currently tackling. Not that she was possessed, or whatever.

Because it was awful, and she doesn't even know if she's got some way to process that at all.