Joan's body goes slack. After a seeming eternity of thrashing, she manages to get control back, though she's not sure if that's good or bad or how any of this works, really. She just knows that she's tired and hungry and for the first time in her life, she kind of wants to die. For tactical reasons, of course.

She lays there, panting on the shitty bed, and looks up at Marcus with heavily lidded eyes. Somehow through her exhaustion she's doing her best to communicate annoyance.

There's a musty rag in her fucking mouth.