Helena studiously is rolling an onion in mustard, and then in the sugar, mulling over Cosima's words. Her cheeks are a little puffed up, although that could be the food previously shovelled in, and she looks up at Sarah's question. A moment to think would be good, to be certain and sure.

"Not now," she finally settles on, taking a chomp out of the nightmare onion creation. "Do eithers have question for me?"

She can answer questions, too. Be helpful.