She grins, a bright, crooked thing that is quite shortlived as she takes a swig of terrible wine.

"A bump in pay for all the bumps we take," she replies, leaning back to stretch her back a little. She isn't sure if she pleased or displeased a god, at the moment, with how she did decently, or how she didn't do better. The present state of injury could really go either way.

"We will get a letter from the Viscount any day to applaud us."