[Tension melts out of her like a deflating balloon.]

Maybe... [Sniff. Evaluate, messily, through the confusion of crying.] I don't think - I can't tell. All I can think about is the problem. And I still don't know what to do about that. [But: some tangle has come undone. That might be something?

She returns the last, calmer hug - still a bit awkward, and jittery, but it's just easier now - and then disengages, steps back and sits back down on her bedding pile, wiping at her cheeks.] If you want to sit down, [she offers quietly and indirectly, and makes some kind of accompanying gesture.]