Elektra does not move at all minus the slight tensing of her shoulders. She was on edge, but knew to reign it. Fred wasn't her enemy. The injustice and hurt she was describing was not rightfully hers. She shouldn't even be angry about it. That is what Elektra tries to rationalize to herself at any rate. There's been no success so far.

At least she had a name to direct her hatred and disappointment at whenever this situation came up.

"I mean that we made it to the exit and Roger came back. Wesley pushed me over the threshold and told me he knew he could never escape. I think he thanked me for trying too, but who knows? It was a while ago." Or maybe the realization she came to just made it hard to process what he was saying. It could be the guilt from her failure as well.

"The point is it was a scenario that was meant to repeat over and over again. I could go in a million times and the only thing I would succeed in doing is forcing Wesley to watch me get hurt trying to save him. The child there was never real. I was bonding with a figment of Wesley's mind; the memory of himself as a child. I couldn't save him because I was never there when he was a boy."

She releases a shaky breath as the kettles goes off. She kills the flame in one easy movement. There's no move for tea bags or cups just yet. Elektra is simply standing there while holding onto a hot stove.