She lets out a small oof when a paw lands on her stomach, but doesn't shoo them off. There are two dogs, and she has two hands, so both Libby and D get copious amounts of pats and scratches.

"Getting kinda sick of this," she says, still staring at the ceiling. "Tell Greer he should restart."

The idea that this is just another simulation is at the forefront of her mind now, post-breach. But she is, perhaps, choosing B as the person to say this to because she wants to hear him tell her that she's wrong.