Ronnie moved her head slightly to watch the newcomer. It was an old man that reminded her of the kind of rich family butler her brother used to tell her stories about when they were young. Ronnie bet the man's name was the stereotypical 'Alfred' too. That would just be the icing on this cake of absolute fuckery. 

Ronnie mentally sighed and rolled her eyes at Quackshot. He really could be so damned paranoid and way too cautious. Just looking at the butler-type man, Ronnie could tell he was being somewhat sincere. The old man had that look in his eyes that Ronnie's brother had whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention to him. Fondness, love, kindness. Butler man cared for this 'ward' of his. There was just one problem with his plan.

Ronnie tried sitting up. She could barely lift herself a couple of inches off of the floor before she had to give up and fall back down. She pointedly looked at the old man afterwards. And in answer to his question about this 'Hemingway' man she had only one thing to say.

"Had a Rat, not a writer. Rat got hurt on a job and went to a doctor," Ronnie nodded towards Quackshot. "Doctor tried, Rat died. Smoke came and Rat was no longer a Rat." Ronnie looked around her at the walls and ceiling of their room. "And now some are here."