She opens her mouth, takes a breath - and then bites her lip and looks down. Poor Bartimaeus. It's not going to work. And if it does work - then poor her - And if it doesn't work, poor her, too, because she's going to have to deal with all of it. Even if he's not murderous, he'll be upset. And Kitty was never really good at dealing with grief.

Well. Nothing to do but try.

She whispers the words to herself twice, rehearsing the strange and unfamiliar syllables. Then, in a quiet and steady voice, she reads them out.