She nods, as if this is explanation enough, though she would think magic would have less to do with one's hands and more to do with one's mind. Not that she knows much of magic, of course. She grimaces as the air holding her up wavers a bit, bringing the unwelcome reminder that there is still a sizable piece of glass protruding from her side. Setting her jaw, Amelia grips the shard with her good arm, hissing as she wrenches the fragment free. Fortunately it comes out easily; a small mercy, she thinks as she claps her hand over the injury to keep pressure on the wound.

To her embarrassment, her legs are not quite as sturdy as she would like, shaking when she finally puts weight on them again. "Metal Sector, I believe," she manages get out, most of her concentration being put into not falling over or giving into the growing feeling of sickness in her stomach. "And quickly, I think, is the word of the hour."

Amelia is putting on her best show of self-sufficiency, but it's clear she's not going to be able to keep herself afoot for long. She's tough, but even so she can be overwhelmed, much as she's loathe to admit it.