"To you, maybe," Meredith says, sharp not because she's mad at him (this is how they get out of here, she trusts him on that), but because the idea of it makes her freeze up. She's prided herself on being calm and cool in a crisis, but this is beyond her and she can't shake the part of her that keeps insisting she shouldn't be here, she isn't supposed to be here. Whether she is or not, she's here anyway. She closes her eyes a moment only, looking over at him and adjusting her grip on the gun to mimic him, struggling not to look as nervous as she feels as she backs her way over to the doors. Taking a deep breath, she pushes a door slowly open, peering out. She doubts she looks like much of a threat to the men out there, but the fact their shouts aren't accompanied by gunfire is cause enough for a relief. "A couple more out here, three, I — what do I do?"