[A light flicks on and she's standing there by the wall, a dagger in her hand, because sneaking up on her is never a smart move, and she was rattled enough that she wasn't taking any chances. Not tonight. Her face is pale, her expression strained, although she's obviously trying to come off as composed, maybe just a little tired. It's not as convincing as it should be, however. There's something... off.]
no subject
Did you need something, Clint?