The gun, at least, is not waved around at random, or pointed remotely at Misty. Misty is safe. The rest of the room might not be. So it covers the four corners, pointing firmly at each in turn, then the window, then goes down to point at the floor in front of Soldat. Still in hand, though, and the metal arm is shifting and whirring.

"No doctors," they say, voice hoarse.

At least there's an explanation for you, Misty.