"Question is: do I really want to adapt to a place like this?" More specifically, Rosa thinks, doesn't that signal a general sense of planning to stay here for a while? Or at least long enough to have to adapt? She's still clinging to the faint hope that she'll get out of here sooner rather than later, but with each passing day, that hope gets dimmer and dimmer.

Confirming it out loud, however, would be like a boot to an ember; it'd extinguish the hope all together.

She glances to where he gestures, eyeing the bag and mats. They're not the best she's ever seen, but they'll do in the meanwhile. She holds them in her gaze for a few extra moments before looking back to Nida. She clenches her jaw in preparation of the words that come awkwardly fumbling out afterwards, like she had to push them out of her mouth:

"Thanks. You've been — uh. Just. Thanks."