"You don't need to do that," she cuts in, quickly and a little tightly. Pity has its uses, but it gets old, and she thinks -- she hopes -- Quentin knows her well enough now that she doesn't need it from him.

"My only point is," she moves on, voice softening slightly, eyes cutting away again, "how this war ends... it doesn't really matter for me anymore. Either way, I'm still without a job, without a plan. People keep asking me what I'm going to do next, and I have no answer."