"I just - I -" the displeased edge to her voice flickers far more quickly than she is entirely pleased with and her shoulders slump - rather like a doll let off its strings - fingers knotting into the material. "I have no bloody idea, I just - I'm being a terrible bitch, aren't I?"

This was very distinctly not how things were supposed to pan out.

A mumble, "I hate it when you're right."