Misa blinks, focusing on Lazarus with some difficulty. The weirdness of seeing him next to his double does nothing to help the sense of displacement and depersonalization that the echo brings; it makes things quite a bit worse, in fact.

"I... need to sit down," she mumbles, head nodding forward as she brings her hands up to cover her eyes— and stops short, as a curtain of blonde hair falls into her line of sight. Misa jerks her head back up with an incoherent noise of confusion, beyond words. Question marks all but dance above her head.