"Every kriffing word of it," she replied dully. She appreciated that he'd cut himself off. Because if she had to hear it again, she'd be ill.

Or possibly violent.

Maybe even both.

With a shrug, she twisted a piece of hair around her fingers. "We're all gonna die eventually. Truth is that rankweed is probably prolonging my life. Or else I might have taken a blaster to my brain years ago."