Goodnight shakes her head. "No, what won't fly is you giving me shit and making peremptory statements like that. I'm not a part of your team. I don't know you. When this is over, I'll never see you again." She says flatly. "I'm here to do a job. I'm doing it. When its done, you guys can get out of Below and back to your normal lives. Until then, fuck off and don't tell me how to do my job, Solo. I was asked a question. I answered it. I will provide further input as necessary. If you wanted me to quit the so-called arrogant assholes approach, then maybe you shouldn't be an arrogant asshole. You're the primary culprit here." Her voice doesn't rise or speed up. She could be talking about the weather for all her inflection changes. It is...most un-Goodnight like. "You assume you know me, know my sister, know our lives. You assume you know my world better than I do, and that just because you say things with a smile that people will go along with them. Guess what? That doesn't work down here. Torrent paid me to guide you, so I'm guiding you. Trust is a two way street and down here, you're in my world, so you have to give a little to get a little. I am still here because I am a professional and because I want to see this family safely out of my domain, and that is it."
She turns to Isaint. "Moving swiftly on," she says, talking over any response Solo could muster, "the body shop on the lowest level has a good track record with..." she smirks, "...assisting in temporary loquaciousness brought on as an unfortunate side effect of gravity, possibly aided and abetted by acute metal poisoning through a high speed ballistic vector. Tell them I sent you and ask for a private room. I'll be along as soon as I am able."
