She thinks the only thing that makes her feel more foolish than playing hero is being angry with nothing to direct it at. Elektra could leave and find a fight. There's always some drunk who takes things too far who likely deserves to be beaten to a pulp. That would mean leaving him. She's not ready for that.

She could trash their home. Elektra thinks on one of her off days that is precisely what she'd do. This isn't one of them. Elektra is all too aware of how pointless that would be. That just leaves going to him. It doesn't make her feel any brighter but neither does her current state of stomping around the house.

She stomps back in his direction, discarding clothing unceremoniously along the way which is telling in itself. She's usually serial killer neat unless she's half-dead. That will be a concern when she's in a better state of mind. Right now? Elektra takes the invitation for what it is, strolling in naked, only having enough sense to shut the door behind her to seal the heat in. She pulls back the curtain without warning to let herself in.

For all her good intentions, Elektra ends up directing her anger and frustration his way in the end. The first thing she does is grab onto his arms to force him closer to her, gaze heated as she speaks. "Don't let it happen again." She lets the words hang for only a moment before her right hand shoots up behind his head to force his lips against hers. As far as coping strategies go, she's had worse.