Unfortunately... or... maybe fortunately? This one must be either immune or completely oblivious to the unstated animosity, because Avery simply leans her weight forward and crosses her arms over her knees, not looking directly at Gwenaëlle.

"Doubt that," she says with a shrug. Not someone who dresses and talks like she does. "Still is one."

Death always is. Messy, that is. Especially when it's slow. It causes a big mess around it, and it turns people and things into messes, and then it's gone and all that's left is... well, you know.