"[color=gray]There’s been some…developments. She’s still here. She’s in holding.[/color]"

Quinn frowned. She didn't like that.

She didn't like any of that. 

From what little she remembered of Dahlia's rescue—[i]god she was like a superhero[/i]—she distinctly recalled that Roaki was going to have to have—have her [i]leg[/i] cut off. She thought. She had no illusions that people on the Aerie would [i]like[/i] her, but...

Frustration nipped at her heels, and her visible brow slanted with a barely-visible combination of irritation and confusion. "[color=ffe63d]Why is she in a [i]holding cell[/i] instead of in medical after what happened? That just seems...cruel.[/color]"

And that was an excellent way of distracting herself from the [i]other[/i] thing Besca had said. Developments. What did [i]developments[/i] mean? At least she was alive, but the vagueness was enough to set Quinn's teeth on edge. Her stomach dropped out from under her as the thought of something [i]terrible[/i] happening—some horrible complication, a growth in her heart, something like that—bled through her body like dye. 

She freed herself from the wall and unwound herself, sitting on the edge of the bad instead, staring at the floor. The satisfaction and...glee that she'd felt when she'd taken [i]Blotklau[/i]'s legs off ricocheted through her head. A deep breath. Two. Three.

When she looked up, her face was writ with sheer mulish stubbornness. [i]Don't even [b]try[/b] to change my mind,[/i] it seemed to say.

"[color=ffe63d]I'm going to see her today. Soon.[/color]"