She groans and tightens her grip on Harrow's fingers in response. The hands have released her arm and chin, but another pair is shoving into the ragged hold of her shirt and prodding at her chest. There is some kind of talk about "diaphragm" and "inner pleura" that Gideon absolutely doesn't understand, but in an absolutely sickening sensation she feels her flesh being moved.

"Fucking... gross..." she manages, as her lungs are repaired from the inside out.

Suddenly the work is done, and she can feel her lung capacity increase by what feels like orders of magnitude. She takes one heaving breath, and then another. The flood of oxygen to her brain is a relief she didn't realize she was desperate for. She stands up out of the chair with her newfound strength, then just as quickly goes ragdoll limp.