"Just as long as this damn bugger doesn't object to..." Rico says with a glare. "...a bleed test."

Or rather, she but opens her mouth to say it and then the world around her swims out of focus.

Smoke chokes the evening air, moans and screams rising into the night. Burning buildings paint the clouds above the hues of the Hells. Craggy mountains take a bite out of the sky.

Blood cakes her limbs. Vomit taints her lips.

Hard rock thuds painfully against her knees---


thunk

---her knees suddenly hit the table with a jerk. She sways where she stands, breath suddenly shallow, ears flushed flat and low. She seizes the nearest cup of water to steady herself.

What the utter frak... More of this crap! Gorrammit. Fookin' hells, no more puttin' off, I need ta grab Brin fer this. Oh, and THAT other thing... tch...

Shaking her head and blinking beneath her hat's shadow, she deliberately focuses on the lord mayor's words and nods, then says, "Hrmm. Ma'am Andosenna. Ain't that a mite stroke o' good fortune."