[Lysithea turns to innocently rearrange some utensils that did not require rearranging. Her aura continues to redden as the staccato of an audible heartbeat begins to accompany her words - she doesn't seem to notice, as very likely, she hears her own blood rushing through her head, anyway.]

There's a bit of an emergency on its way. And I've agreed that I need to prevent it from coming to pass.

[She will refrain from mentioning the part where there had been a vision of her death already.]

You understand - there are certain responsibilities one must fulfill. And... if you wish to help, the best thing you can do is to make sure that the bakery runs as smoothly as it possibly can. ...Not to be presumptuous, I just assume you're about to protest.

[One hand trembles slightly and knocks a spatula astray. Lysithea reaches over to pick it up and uses it as an excuse to indulge in some more petting of Balthus.]