"I have made," Euphoria announced as she entered, "twenty dollars!"

She held up the red note proudly. That was enough to pay for petrol for a year[1]! She should consult the Wed Lord and see if he was looking for a retainer. 

She placed the note inside the glass jar that represented her contribution to the household finances. Honourably won, every dollar. It would become even moreso once the insurance merchants replaced her motorcycle.

"How goes thy war with the beast that bysets thy soul?" she asked, smoothly pulling her only slightly scorched gloves from her long white fingers. It was good to be in the cool and dark once more (it was good to feel the silver hilt of her blade with her own fingertips). "Doth thou - apologies. [i]Do you[/i] yet have control of your humours?"

[1] circa 1950