[ Her brow creases, she looks betrayed for a moment. Angry. But she squashes it down - no, he just doesn't understand. How could he? That's not his fault. She inhales deeply, wiping her her mouth with the back of her hand before straightening up. ]

You're wrong.

[ She puts her palms flat on the bar, mirroring him. She stares at him, looking right in the eye, her composure calm but deadly serious. There's a cold heat in her voice, detached and unaffected by what he's telling her. It's trivial to her, there are grander things at play here.

But there's a deep earnestness to her words too - she means every word she says. ]

I know what dying feels like, I've died a hundred times and come back. It doesn't matter what happens to my body, that's not the thing that needs to leave, it's not important. I have the way and the will to leave and I will get to where I have to be.