[ Her inhale is sharp and there's a moment where she holds it in her lungs before she responds. ] I didn't even read your file.

[ She's not sure why. Since she was told about them it's sat at the back of her thoughts like a shadow. What did it say? She hadn't imagined it would ignore the idea of what she is, but what else could have been written? Did it spell out all of her faults in gory detail? Nobody has tried to burn her at the stake yet. She has to hope some things remain secret. ]

I'm not a very good one. [ Her feet stamp in the snow, a little more energy in it. The Brooklyn Strop, that's what it should be called. ] If they wanted a demon killer they got the wrong one.