Cosima's been coughing on and off since they arrived, and it's always been an thick, wet, uncomfortable sound. But perhaps it's something they can use, now. Cosima doesn't have much else, at any rate. She squints toward the door, mostly a blur of light in a wall of black.

Very low: "You think if he thinks I'm actually going to stop breathing, he'll come check on me?" She's not entirely sure, herself - she isn't sure if they particularly need any of them alive. But it's worth a shot, maybe, unless either of the others have a better plan.