Maeve considered saying, "Now, Ladies, you're [i]both[/i] very pretty." 

She really did. 

But her mother always said, "if yeh can't say somethin' nice, keep yer damn mouth shut, Maevie." And then there was the whole possibility of having both women she worked with hating her (and not in the fun "I like to punch you because you punch back" way) because, evidently, she was sandwiched between two people who could not take a joke (again, sandwiched in the absolutely no-fun way). Which was a shame, really, as neither of them would probably laugh if she gave them a tube of lube to pull the sticks out of their- 

Isa was talking about stakes and dying. Like Maeve's soul. Slowly, [i]slowly[/i] dying. 

Moment [i]gone.[/i] 

Maeve, for what it was worth, had never hit a jotun. She'd faught some trolls, a varg shifter or two, but never a jotun. They weren't welcome customers, as far as the memos went. Fortunately, the strip had never seemed to be the priority of many jotun raids. Sex, liquor, and stale pretzels apparently didn't do it for everyone.

She smiled in Isa's direction, and nodded like she gave a shit. [b][color=#c4422b]"Not that you asked me, but I'd probably set it on fire,"[/color][/b] she offered, sitting in the front row just so that she could place her foot on the platform when she tipped herself back. [b][color=#c4422b]"Since, you know, I set stuff on fire. Assholes,"[/color][/b] she ticked off on one finger, and then proceeded, [b][color=#c4422b]"in-laws, thugs, big spiders... And you could ice their asses! And Zero'll shield us while we cunt-punt the bastards into the sun. Honestly, we're fucking [i]super heroes.[/i] What could happen, for Christ's sake?"[/color][/b]