Cho shrinks visibly under the force of the glare, but she goes back to what she's doing. He's still helping. She can't ask for more than that. It's so much easier to hide her emotions when she doesn't care, almost impossible when she does. So it's simpler to not look at him, to not be so painfully easy to read. Two people are more useful than one, and her comfort doesn't matter. She just keeps telling herself that. She's made her own bad first impression, no one else to blame, and she feels as though she'll keep adding to it, the wild swings between being unable to form words at all, and unable to shut them off. Too much, or not enough. There's probably some deep insight there, but she doesn't care to look at it now. Maybe not ever.

There's only one thing she has to not screw up right now, and it's in her hands, cold and cranky, but safe. She moves down the line. When she notices the vine snakes perking up, she takes them from the incubator, letting them twine around her wrists, and moves some geckos in, Marmalade following her movements with sharp blue eyes, and mewling unhappily when she doesn't linger for pets. "Do you--" Cho shuts her mouth with an audible click, clenching her teeth together. No! Do not try to fill the silence. She clears her throat awkwardly and checks out a container with the two remaining mice that did not want to leave her when she was done observing them.