[ look. hecate isn't sure what she's expecting, other than something bad. and each word of buildup just makes it worse! this sucks. this buildup sucks. no matter how bad it is, she is confident it's not worth all this anxious buildup.

at least, she's confident right up until he says the whole "big evil wizard" part. which makes her squint for a moment as she tries to remember just who that is - not her proudest moment, she'll admit - before her eyes go saucer-wide. ]

Oh, no fucking way.

[ look. there's no simply other way to put it. she is absolutely, categorically, theologically fucked right now. her stance just... slumps, any remote attempt at keeping herself prepared flying out the window. after a moment, she looks up and into his eyes, offering the earnest smile of a woman who has decided to challenge the grim reaper to a game despite knowing full well she's already dead. ]

Well. I feel like. We might be past the point of explaining things away? So instead I would just like to say that I've met several of your Holy Saints in the past week, and they've been very lovely, and I feel like the fact that they decided not to murder me means that maybe you might appreciate me alive too?