"I — I think so," Summer says, though she's looking at Rebekah, her expression a cross between fear belatedly setting in and confusion. Whatever's just happened, she doesn't have the first freaking idea. She just knows that it isn't enough to get her to relax at all, her knuckles white where her hand is wrapped tightly around her shoe, even if it means standing on the ball of one foot to keep herself steady. There's no way it could have been this simple, not with how it all started; she's half-expecting the one walking away to turn around and come at them again, though he doesn't yet. "What the hell is going on?"