Smirks. Sure. Where's the applause? The gold coins? The dancing girls? The --

Aw, fuck.

There's barely time to register their impending death before it abruptly doesn't impend. That's something of a blessing, leaves her without a good chance to cower. Leaves plenty more time though for wondering what in the void exactly that was, other than nothing good.

"Well," Shakily, strained. She's trying very hard right now not to look like exactly what she looks like: Someone who's seen a ghost. "Reckon it does that every time?"

Maker. Just like home.