Though Izzy had put up a wall between herself and everyone she knew, she could not imagine what it would be like for someone's only interaction with others consisting of battles.
	Any sympathy she had drained from her face at his command. Though not given unkindly, she inhaled and looked ahead of her, the pressure in her chest telling her that, even if she had not wanted to, she would comply.
	“A man was walking by a mental institution with a tall privacy fence,” she began with the first joke she thought of, her voice as stiff and irate as her expression, and tongue sluggish. “From the other side, he heard a bunch of people chanting, ‘Thirteen! Thirteen!’ Curious, he peeked through a hole in the fence, and someone poked him in the eye. From the other side, the group cheered, then started chanting, ‘Fourteen! Fourteen!’”
	Not bothering to look to Cerasus to see his reaction, she hugged her legs toward her chest, her gaze dark. “Maybe if you said ‘please’ instead of ordering one out of people, you won’t have to wait another two-hundred years to hear your next one,” she snapped.