"Keep looking." This has always been her fucking problem. See someone bigger than you? Pick a fight. Stare down a guy twice your weight with a gun pointed on you, what do you do? Growl at him. Great fucking plan, Joan.

But if she's going to die today, it's not going to be after a polite apology.

She's aware, on some level, that this is a test. That she shouldn't be goaded into giving herself away. But twice he's bested her, and her pride is wounded; she wants to prove her worth, even though she knows its useless. No one like him will ever find her useful.

Even if you were born in prison, you'd miss home eventually. "I was seeing if I could fix it, genius."