"I know what I'm doing, boss," the word comes with the precision sharpness of a stiletto blade angled up beneath the xiphoid process, thrust with all the force she can muster. "I know the situation a damn sight better than you do. I-I'm just struggling to articulate myself because I just died in front of an entire fucking audience of people."

Maybe not really. Maybe her lungs never stopped drawing air and her heart kept pounding in her chest. Maybe it was just a show. But that doesn't feel like it matters, right now. The feeling is the same.

Deep breath in. She pushes herself up from the wall again and her nose wrinkles against the dust creeping past the doorway.

"How many costumes do they need..."