[The contraptions here playing at being human expect them to "talk it out". This is a good way to get it out of the way as any, and perhaps the only reason Abigail is more talkative than usual, if any.

Or rather, more responsive. Her arms stretch over her head on the bed, every joint cracking as she shapes unused limbs into slow action.]

Long enough? More than six weeks, less than two months. Not that I know what month it is. Pretty sure it was March before I woke up here. It certainly doesn't feel like anywhere near that now.

[It remains unspoken that she hasn't gotten to any of this at all, even in her ennui.]