Catra is happy to go without conversation. Conversation is stupid. Conversation is vulnerable. It's garbage, really. Like Setsuna, she doesn't find it difficult to stay on her feet now--it's more that it takes time because she's so fucking tired. By the time the pair have clambered up to the top and the bomb that they're supposed to somehow defuse, Catra feels like she might just crawl out of the course and collapse.

"...Great, which wire do we cut?" She mutters. "Red, green, blue, yellow, black..." She peers at the mess of electronics.

"What happens if we cut the wrong one?"