[ petrana's warmth, her bearing, it does a little to disguise how little she gives in return. it does a little. not enough.

melys leans against the wall, settles back into herself by gradual inches. considers what picture to give, ]

Figure I'd want to know what's holding me to them.

[ decides as she always does, upon something near the truth. ]

Me? Nothing. Could up and walk away. Did, easy as sin.

You could too. Set off and do anything you like, anything at all. But that thing in your fist'll start burning soon enough. Only Inquisition knows how to settle it.

[ her hand digs in the soggy beltpouch, fishes out a waterlogged pipe. a sigh. she stows it once more. ]

Ain't so bad. They'll treat you right, three meals a day. Nice folks for a bunch of fucking warlords.