What?? Are you telling me the beaten all to shit by skeletons and a shitty old Marshal who hates my guts look isn't hot as all hell? And I thought I'd nailed it.

[She's trying, but there's definitely signs of strain around the edges of her glib words. The broken ribs she'd sustained hadn't mattered much, nor the tooth that had been shoved back in again (and subsequently hurt like a motherfucker) by an indifferently talented bone adept. Getting literally dragged into the inner sanctum of Drearburh had sucked all to hell, but it's the other thing that hurt the most. Just as he suspects, getting so close to freedom only to have it snatched away at the eleventh hour had thrown her into the darkest mental space she'd ever encountered.]

You're right though. It fucking sucked. Worst day of my life, and trust me, there were a lot of very shitty days. But hey! I'm not there now, and I'm never going back. Not if I can help it.

[She takes a more tentative sip of her drink, then tilts him a thin smile.]

Not even to tell them they gotta mix up the decor a little. Like, I know they'd be scandalised to hear it, but there's such a thing as too many bones, you know?