Her lip twitches, pulling taught into the faintest sneer borne more from immaturity than anything else. She's tired and impatient. She wants little more than to be free of these dungeons. No... not even that. The dungeons are tolerable. It's the stifling emptiness that's taken the place of her light that robs her of a peaceful night's rest more than the thin, straw mattresses.

"Then just call me unlucky," not a new thing. She could go on a tirade about how other people deserve to be down here more than her, but it's not exactly an easy transition from that to needing a note delivered to him.