"I'm Grace," and an awkward pause where an ordinary person would shake hands, but that's not a thing Grace does.

Here is about when he would feel it-- that nausea-inducing feeling of wrongness that rolls off of her in waves. The fight-or-flight instinct, bone-deep, screaming run as fast as you can, something is hunting you. She can't help it. She doesn't get a choice. But there it is.

"Coping is fine, but... we have to focus on what's productive, if we're going to get anyone back home." She looks perfectly ordinary. Nervous, too-thin on her frame, but ordinary. "And it's what we're here for, to get all of you back home."