Niska's attention hasn't strayed despite hearing a reply, fixated solely on the names. Her brow furrows when she notes the corruption of them, but that isn't what worries her. It's the fact that when she lets her vision lose focus on the text to try and catch a reflection, she sees the green of her eyes.

Her blue contacts didn't come with her. Reaching up and touching them without blinking, she lowers her hand and steadies herself. From what she'd gleaned from Mark, people here don't know about synths and she knows that she can pass for human.

"Why are your files corrupted? Does no one have access to the code?" she demands, staring forward as she works her way through the lists. No Mia, no Leo, no Max.

There's certainly no Astrid.

Faith is a stupid thing, she's always theorized, but perhaps it's time for her to acknowledge that there are some things that could be fate or faith, and to whichever she owes her gratitude, it's not a concept she enjoys not having control over.