Toros shortly considered playing dead.

Her longevity has been, at least partially, secured by [i]not[/i] attracting attention from bolter-wielding trespassers. She could reasonably stay in the decanter until this enemy-of-an-enemy leaves the premises and start figuring it all out all on her own. In fact, that one was, perhaps, the most reasonable course of action. Thought of the day: "Trust in your fear".

Secunda bit the inside of her lip, enhancing her connection with the Godhead with the metal taste on her tongue. Choosing the reasonable course of action time after time was exactly the path she would have expected from herself. She wouldn't be here if that one worked out perfectly. The path was generally clear - gently knock on the glass so that the interloper doesn't recognize her as another ambusher, work her way through the locking mechanism and through the hard conversation. After all, that won't be the first time Archmagos silver tongue sliced her way out of mortal danger.

She opened her mouth a split second before realizing the trappings of the flesh she had failed to account for. Silver-tongued approach had to give way for a violent fit of coughing and retching against the flat surface, the lungs switching to a disgustingly natural way to clear themselves from the liquid. Secunda tried to comfort herself with the thought that at least she was not looking remotely dangerous in this miserable state.

Somehow, that exact thought made her want to die again.