“This work allows us to appreciate what the world was like two thousand years ago, when humans were blessed by the gods,” the historian said, gesturing towards a series of intricate paintings and sculptures displayed on the wall. As she spoke, her voice was rich and resonant, filled with passion. She pointed to an old painting depicting Lunaris, her silver hair cascading like moonlight, surrounded by celestial bodies that shimmered with life. “Notice how the artists of that era captured her essence… every brushstroke reflected the reverence they held for her.”
She moved gracefully to a sculpture of the alchemical circle, its surface engraved with ancient symbols that gleamed faintly in the light. “And here we have a replica of the circle itself, painstakingly crafted to preserve the knowledge of our ancestors. Each symbol tells a story, a connection to the divine that we can still feel today.”
The audience listened silently, captivated by her as she continued, “In Atlas, we are not just observing history; but how we are part of a legacy that echoes through the ages.”
Alex stood silently, among the gilded frames and polished marble, her gaze fixed on the parchment drawing of the goddess Lunaris as the historian continued walking through the hall. Her dark attire, consisting of practical form-fitting trousers and a fitted black jacket with a hood that covered her head, blended seamlessly into the shadows of the ornate gallery, allowing her to go unnoticed among the affluent people bustling about the place.
It was a unique and rare exhibition, sponsored by the neighboring city of Atlas, where it was said that Lunaris once lived. Ironforge, an industrial city with a practical mindset that lacked the religious fervor of the Atlans, yet they held a keen interest in them, drawn to Atlas’s wealth and exclusivity, a city notoriously difficult for foreigners to enter.
Beneath the glimmer of polished chandeliers, laughter and conversation mingled with the faint scent of aged paper and oil paint.
With her raven-black hair concealed beneath a vibrant red curly wig, Alex’s sharp green eyes scanned the room with a predator’s focus. Tonight was not about appreciating art; it was about stealing it. A fortune awaited them if they succeeded, and Alex had no intention of letting her client down.
“It’s incredible that there are fools who actually believe in this nonsense,” murmured a man beside her, dressed like one of Ironforge’s elite, adjusting his glasses as he feigned interest in a nearby sculpture. He shot Alex a quick, knowing smile.
His name was Rizz, her partner in crime responsible for creating the diversions essential to make their scheme succeed.
“This nonsense is going to make us rich.”
“And they don’t even know it.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Alex replied tersely, her heart racing as she focused on the prize. The drawing, in an antique gold frame, depicted the goddess with ethereal grace. The lines were sharp and fluid; this masterful rendition, having endured centuries, was now reduced to a mere object to be traded for gold.
"Well, it's your time to shine, Alex…" Rizz murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he slipped away, distracting the unsuspecting guests and guards, shielding her from prying eyes.
Alex moved a step closer, her pulse thrumming with adrenaline. The drawing, so delicately crafted, was captivating and beautiful, but it stirred no sentiment in her, only the promise of a reward. Her fingers traced the frame’s edge, the chill of the metal cool against her fingertips.
Nearby, a small burst of laughter erupted from a group of guests, momentarily drawing the guards' attention. Taking advantage of the distraction, Alex slipped a lockpick from its hidden pocket, her fingers moving deftly to unfasten the latch of the frame. It opened with a soft click. With a swift, practiced hand, she removed the original drawing, folding it carefully to fit inside the inner pocket of her jacket. In its place, she slipped in a near-perfect replica she had brought, ensuring it was properly secured in the frame.
A nearby guard, who had been stifling yawns and barely paying attention to the bustling event, suddenly noticed that the painting was missing from the display. His boredom quickly transformed into alertness as he hurried over and called out to Alex.
“Excuse me, miss, you’re not allowed to take items from the exhibit.”
Alex turned, putting on a polite, slightly embarrassed smile as she held up the frame she had deliberately picked up from another part of the hall. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she said with a hint of apology in her tone. “I didn’t realize I couldn’t touch the items.” She carefully replaced the piece, taking a moment to adjust it as if ensuring it was perfectly aligned.
The guard nodded, visibly relieved but still wary, as she stepped back. Alex took the opportunity to smoothly melt back into the crowd, her heart racing as she felt the secure weight of the original tucked within her jacket. The laughter and chatter around her resumed, allowing her to slip away undetected, the stolen artifact now hers.
____
The dimly lit bar thrummed with life, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Alex raised her mug, the frothy amber liquid sloshing over the rim, and clinked it against Rizz's. They stood at the bar, nestled in their favorite corner of the Red District, infamous in Ironforge for its brothels, alcohol, and contraband.
"To us!" Rizz declared, his voice a melodic blend of bravado and mirth. Tall and slender, he had a wild mane of hair that fell just to the edge of his jaw, framing his angular face. His loose white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, offered a glimpse of his chest, while silver earrings glinted in the low light like stars in a night sky.
“To us,” Alex echoed, lifting her beer to her lips for a long swig, frothy liquid spilling slightly over her chin.
She had earned it.
She deserved this night of freedom and carefree revelry, and she intended to savor every moment until the alcohol spun her head and her pockets ran dry.
“By the end of the week, we’ll have enough gold to waste for months!” he continued, his enthusiasm infectious as he gestured grandly, the mug nearly tipping over in his exuberance.
Alex, with her raven-black hair pulled back in a high braid that accentuated the shaved sides of her head, smiled softly at his antics.
“Cheers to that….” She took another sip of her drink, letting the taste wash over her, grounding her in the present. The chaos of the bar around them faded momentarily as she savored the victory of that night. “Just try not to draw too much attention,” Alex murmured, leaning in close and scanning the bar for prying eyes. “It won’t be long before they realize it’s a replica.”
“They’ll go wild when that happens. God, I’d pay to see it…” Rizz laughed, slapping the bar top with a little too much enthusiasm, causing a few nearby patrons to glance over.
Alex shook her head, that thought wasn't exactly pleasant to entertain.
“I can’t blame them… Their goddess means everything to them.”
“It’s all nonsense, that’s what it is…” Rizz replied, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Alex fell silent for a moment, her gaze drifting as she contemplated his words. She knew Rizz was right; it was foolish to expect an imaginary being to fix their lives. Yet, deep down, she couldn’t help but think that if such a force did exist, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“I don’t know… Sometimes I wish I could believe in it.” Alex fiddled with the rim of her glass, her fingers tracing the condensation, lost in thought.
“In gods? Are you kidding?” Rizz chuckled, his laughter echoing in the lively bar.
Alex shrugged, a slight smile playing on her lips. “In magic… I guess life would be easier with it, wouldn’t it?”
“Nah, maybe for the high and mighty, but for folks like us? It’d be the same crap…” He waved his hand dismissively, nearly spilling his drink.
With a sigh, Alex pulled the drawing of the goddess Lunaris from her pocket, her sharp green eyes studying the delicate lines capturing the figure’s ethereal beauty.
Perhaps it was her grandmother’s influence. The stubborn woman who, throughout Alex's childhood, had woven tales of a time when the gods watched over humanity. She had often insisted that if Alex were a good girl, they would protect her too, even if she couldn't see them.
The thought soured in her mind; despite always adhering to those words, the so-called gods had still allowed her beloved grandmother to end up in the hospital.
“Yeah… you’re right,” she murmured after a moment of silence, her voice barely above the din, folding the drawing back up and tucking it away in her jacket. Believing in that nonsense would only make her life feel more miserable, and she wasn’t about to let that happen. “I’ll go for another round.”
“Sure, keep them coming.”
Alex approached the bar, the empty beer mugs clinking together in her hands as she set them down with a satisfied thud. With a sharp whistle, she caught the bartender's attention, gesturing for a refill while leaning casually against the counter.
In that moment, she felt a familiar pair of fingers tracing a light path along her back, sending a subtle shiver through her. A discreet smile tugged at her lips as she recognized that unmistakable scent lingering in the air.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” a sultry voice whispered over Alex’s shoulder, sweet and seductive just as she remembered. “What are you celebrating?”
Alex turned around, resting her elbows on the weathered wooden surface of the bar. Her smile widened as she met Ranea’s gaze; her ex-girlfriend and the infuriating head of Ironforge’s civic security. Ranea stood tall, her athletic frame radiating the confidence that Alex had once liked. The way her sleek black hair framed her face, highlighting those dark, captivating eyes that always seemed to see right through Alex.
“What makes you think I’m celebrating anything?” Alex countered, raising an eyebrow playfully.
“Oh, come on, Alexandria. You never haunt places like this unless there’s something worth celebrating. What mischief have you been up to? Did you save a kitten? Found a lost child? Or maybe you robbed some landowner’s vault up there?” Ranea leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a subtle whisper, the warmth of her breath teasing Alex’s skin.
Alex felt her heart race slightly as she met Ranea's alluring gaze, their playful banter laced with an undeniable tension.
“Maybe I did a little of all three,” Alex replied, a mischievous glint in her sharp green eyes, her tone challenging as she bit her lower lip. “Gotta keep the business running, right?”
Ranea’s lips curled into a smirk, her dark eyes glinting with interest.
“Right… Just try to stay out of trouble, darling.” With a casual grace, Ranea tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her dark, alluring eyes lingering on Alex. She leaned in, closing the distance until her breath brushed warm against Alex’s ear, her voice velvet-soft. “I’d hate to have to arrest you.”
Alex tilted her head, exposing her fair, inked neck and granting Ranea free rein to do as she pleased. Their relationship was complicated —too complicated— and they’d never work together. But that didn’t stop Alex from savoring those rare rendezvous. Much like the thrill of a high-stakes game, Alex found herself drawn to those encounters, fully aware of the risks yet unable to resist the fun they provided.
“I wonder why I can't believe you.”
“Because you know me too well.”
“Oh, come on!” a familiar voice groaned, breaking the moment. Alex let her head fall back, eyes squeezing shut. Rizz stood in front of them, looking entirely exasperated. “I leave you alone for one minute, and you’re already getting into your ex’s pants?”
“Don’t blame her, pretty boy. That was all me,” Ranea assured him, stepping back from Alex with a sly smile. “But don’t worry, she’s all yours…” She turned to Alex, her voice low and smooth. “I’ll be right over there for a while, in case you decide you want to have a little fun tonight.”
With a nod, Ranea gestured toward a table where two stunning women sipped drinks from delicate glasses, their eyes immediately landing on Alex. They waved at her with playful smiles, giggling and openly flirting as they batted their lashes in her direction.
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Rizz shook his head with determination, curls bouncing as he tugged Alex’s arm. “No chance. No fucking way. I’m not letting you drag her into one of your shady escapades. I’m always the one left dealing with the shitty fallout.”
Alex’s lips twitched with amusement despite her relaxed stance. “Well… You heard him. Not tonight.”
“A shame… we could’ve had quite the time.” Ranea shot Alex a final smile before slipping away, a lingering look over her shoulder as she made her way back through the crowd.
Rizz watched her go, raising his brows in disbelief. “I still don’t get how someone like her works for the civil police. She’s… insane.”
She was indeed.
What could she say? Alex always had a soft spot for the crazy ones.
“Come on, let’s get back to our table.” Alex patted his arm, grabbing the two freshly filled mugs. “I’m still way too sober to keep up with you.”
“With me?! I’m nothing but the best friend you could ever ask for.”
“That’s what I said…”
Once settled at their table, the hours blurred into a haze of laughter, toasts, and slightly reckless decisions. With each round of drinks, Alex felt the weight of the world lift just a bit more, replaced by a comforting buzz that dulled her nagging worries. She and Rizz traded stories, shared jokes that only got funnier with the alcohol, and reveled in the camaraderie that filled the night.
But as the night wore on and drinks kept flowing, the line between fun and excess faded. Their laughter turned to slurred words, and soon they could barely hold themselves up in their seats. By the time the bartender announced last call, they were both a delightful mess, teetering on their stools, giggling uncontrollably at inside jokes that had long since lost their context.
In the end, the bouncer had to intervene, pulling them from their seats and escorting them out with a bemused shake of his head. Alex stumbled, leaning against Rizz for support as they made their way into the cool, dimly lit alleyways of Ironforge. Despite their drunken state, Alex couldn’t shake the smile off her face. She felt a strange sense of contentment wash over her. In that moment, amid the chaos and clamor of the city, she realized she had a good life, even if it lacked a clear purpose.
___________
“That was the agreed price” Alex stated firmly, exhaling a puff of smoke that slowly dissolved into the air. Her legs were casually open, the posture showing a hint of recklessness and confidence she’d built after years in the business. Her grim expression, accentuated by deep shadows under her eyes from a hangover that felt like a demon had taken residence in her skull, added to her unfriendly demeanor. She leaned against the table between them, her sharp green eyes fixed on the customer in front of her, a burly man with a nervous gaze, trying to play tough.
Fucking hell. The last thing she needed that morning was to negotiate with a pathetic cheapskate.
"I really think you might want to consider lowering the price… The job was easy enough,” he insisted, attempting to assert some dominance. “Besides, it is not like the drawing would fetch much at an auction.”
“Easy, huh?” Alex let out a cold laugh, allowing the smoke from her cigarette to curl lazily around her face. “If it was so easy, why didn’t you do it yourself, you fucking asshole? Or hire one of those shitty agencies down the alleyway?” She leaned back, eyes unwavering. “I won’t let my work be cheapened by your whims.”
The man frowned at her words, but Alex stood her ground, leaning forward just enough to make sure he understood clearly. “I don’t give a shit about its auction value, that’s your problem,” she said coldly. “And you should already know that at Ironhands Solutions, we don’t do refunds.” She tilted her head towards a sign on the wall: "No refunds, you prick."
The customer swallowed hard, clearly unnerved by the steely look in her eyes and the edge in her voice. Alexandria’s reputation preceded her—a fearsome one, earned through sheer grit and more than a few necessary demonstrations. That kind of standing didn’t build itself. After a tense moment, he nodded slowly, clearly conceding to more than just the price. “Fine, fine. I will accept it.”
Alex’s lips curled in a forced smile as she extended her hand to seal the deal. ‘Always a pleasure doing business with an Atlans,’ she lied, gritting her teeth as she shook his hand.
As the man pulled a couple of bags of gold coins from the inside of his fine silk robe, Alex stood up, striding toward her safe. She opened it with a swift motion, retrieving the small painting of Lunaris and placing it carefully in front of him. In exchange, she took the bags, weighing them in her hand to confirm they contained the agreed amount of gold.
“For the love of the gods,” he whispered, tracing the painting with trembling fingers. “I cannot believe I finally got her…”
Alex frowned, feeling a churn of disgust rise in her stomach. The way he said it was unsettling. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to do with that, don’t do it here,” she warned, turning back to her safe to stash the gold.
“I would never do anything like that! She is… she is sacred.”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled, the cigarette perched between her lips as her hands busied themselves arranging the bags of gold among the other treasures she kept inside. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her.
“You barbarians would not understand,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension.
Alex raised an eyebrow, slamming the safe door shut a bit harder than necessary. Idiot. She shot him a sharp glare.
“Hey, watch it, buddy. If I were you, I wouldn’t insult the person who’s got you locked up in her house,” she warned, her voice cool but edged with a hint of menace.
The client shifted uneasily; his discomfort palpable as he clutched the painting of Selene against his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “W-well… Uh, I really must be going,” he stammered, glancing around as if the walls were closing in on him. “Thank you once again for the commission.”
Alex leaned back against the edge of her desk, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her baggy pants, the fabric adorned with metallic studs that embellished the worn out seams. “The pleasure was all yours,” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Customer service wasn’t exactly her strong suit.
As he awkwardly maneuvered around the room, eager to make his exit, she couldn’t help but find it amusing how cowardly Atlans could be beneath all their wealth and imposing attires.
She couldn't help but harbor a deep resentment toward Atlas, that neighboring city perched arrogantly atop its cliffs, reaching for the heavens as if it had no need for the rest of them. The Atlans lived in luxury, their gleaming towers of glass and polished bronze reflecting the sunlight she seldom saw. Their streets were paved with marble, their gardens suspended in the air, and their fountains flowed with a precision that bordered on arrogance. Everything there was so perfect, meticulously arranged to exude wealth and elegance, a far cry from the harsh, hellish depths of Ironforge.
Ironforge was her home, Ironforge was her home, a city buried beneath the earth, where metal clanged, and steam hissed without end. It was a world where nothing grew, where food was scarce and expensive, and the very air was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of metal and coal smoke. It was a city built on sweat and toil, with massive forges and factories churning out weapons, armored vehicles, and machines day and night. The city fed on the looming threat of war, its heart fueled by the never-ending labor of the mines, which tore precious resources from the earth’s core. The military council controlled the gold reserves, supposedly to keep the city running, though a single coin could cover a year’s rent for an office like Alex’s.
The poor and the miners lived in the depths, near the mines, where the air was thin and every breath a struggle. Above them, closer to the surface, the wealthy basked in the rare rays of sunlight and fresh air, luxuries reserved for those who could afford them. In contrast, Atlas was a dream, untouched by the grime and suffering that clung to Ironforge like a second skin. Atlas had no need for the grueling labor of the mines or the ceaseless production of weapons. Its people wore elegant clothes adorned with golden gears, dedicating their lives to the arts, religion, and trade.
In Ironforge, the only gods they knew were the commanders and the council, who ruled with iron fists, keeping the city in line through sheer force and discipline. It was a military state, where every decision served either industry or the army. The difference between the two cities was stark. In Atlas, progress came draped in beauty; in Ironforge, it came at the cost of countless lives.
She hated Atlas for it, for their neutrality in global conflicts, their easy prosperity, and their distance from the harsh realities of places like Ironforge. While they gazed at the stars and sought wisdom from their constellations, she and her people labored in the depths, with no light to guide them but the fiery glow of the forges. Atlas had the luxury to worship Lunaris, to believe in the restoration of magic through the stars. In Ironforge, they worshipped survival, and every breath they took was a battle won.
She had only visited that secluded city once, a little before her grandmother ended up in the hospital. The old woman, stubborn as a rusty, worn-out cog, had spent all her savings to bring Alexandria to the Temple of Lunaris on the anniversary of the fall of the Old Regime, insisting she receive a blessing from the temple’s priests. Alex remembered little of the visit. Only that she had fasted for days beforehand, worn clean, new clothes, and bruised her knees during the endless hours her grandmother kept her praying, begging for a life she would never have and for foolish blessings that would never come.
But there was one thing she could never forget: the statue of Lunaris. Gleaming white and flawless, it had been carved with such exquisite skill that the goddess’s robes seemed like silk rather than stone, her beauty so profound that even the most stubborn atheist might have been swayed to faith.
With a quiet sigh, Alex pulled herself from the memory. Dwelling on useless dreams of temples and statues was pointless. Here, beneath the layers of steel and soot, faith was a luxury they couldn’t afford. She shrugged on her worn jacket, the fabric stiff and smelling faintly of smoke, a reminder of where she truly belonged. She had barely begun fastening the buttons when the door creaked open, and Rizz stepped into the room, breaking her solitude.
"Those fucking pricks," Rizz shouted, tossing his bag onto the floor and sprawling onto the couch, looking as if he’d been sucker-punched. "Can you believe it? Four bloody silvers for one, just one damn pass to the upper district."
Alex’s brow furrowed. "What? That can’t be right. They just raised the price a couple of weeks ago."
Rizz dug out the pass, holding it up between his middle and index fingers like he was about to throw it away. " Guess those bastards either need even more cash or just don’t want us ‘down-dwellers’ anywhere near their precious district. Anyway, you owe me for this one."
"Right, right." Alex took the ticket and tucked it into her jacket pocket. "Thanks. I’ll pay you back."
Rizz grinned, looking as if he’d just struck gold. "You can start by getting me a bottle of that Ironfrost juniper liquor next time."
Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You actually like that stuff?"
"Only once you get past the taste. Remember that sludge they called fish-bone liquor? Made Yurith puke all over herself—it was like… drinking something dredged up from the depths of the mines."
The memory made Alex wrinkle her nose, stomach turning slightly. "I’d rather forget."
"Never could if I tried." Rizz stared off into space with a faux-serious expression, like he was contemplating life’s biggest mysteries. "But hey, at least here in Ironforge we don’t have to worry about freezing our asses off like they do in Ironfrost."
Alex shrugged, smirking. "They’re probably saying the same about us—roasting down here and breathing in coal dust."
"Charming, as always," Rizz muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, off to see the old lady, huh?"
"Yeah. And don’t worry. I’m not about to forget the twins are coming tonight," Alex said with a half-smile, waving as she stepped out of their hidden den, leaving Rizz to his musings in the dim, gritty light of Ironforge.
_______________
The hospital in the upper district was so bright that it almost hurt Alex’s eyes. It was a different world up there: beautiful gardens, towering windows that looked out over the pristine, white city of Atlas, its skyline stretching toward the heavens. From the moment she stepped inside, she felt eyes on her. The cautious glances from staff and passing visitors. Her worn clothes and leather jacket stood out in that place, and though that might have riled her up on another day, today, her only focus was the room at the end of the hall.
“Gran,” she said softly as she stepped in. Her grandmother looked up, her face brightening with a smile as she reached out, her frail hand curling around Alex’s.
“Alex, my dear… I wasn’t expecting you today!”
“Got the day off work.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She did have the day off, though not from her real line of work.
She pulled one of the decorative chairs from the corner and turned it backward by the bedside, straddling it so the backrest was in front of her. Reaching out, she offered her hand to her grandmother, whose eyes softened with concern.
“Are you doing all right?” her grandmother asked quietly, her tone weighted with worry. “You look so tired these days, sweetheart.”
Sighing, her grandmother took Alex’s hand, her frail fingers tracing the leather of Alex’s gloves, as if hoping to smooth away the tension held within them. “You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t break your back just to keep me here.”
“Don’t worry, Gran. I’m doing fine,” Alex said, forcing a small smile she hoped was convincing. “I haven’t done anything dangerous, just… normal jobs.”
Her grandmother’s brow furrowed as she scanned Alex’s face, her pale eyes searching, looking for any sign of truth beneath the surface. Alex held the smile, as steadily as she could manage.
“You know, I’m not so easy to fool,” her grandmother said quietly, looking down before meeting Alex’s gaze again. “I’d be fine anywhere, sweetheart… You don’t have to make all these sacrifices for me.”
Alex shook her head, giving her grandmother’s hand a gentle squeeze. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather have you. Besides... where else would they bring the latest city gossip right to your bedside, huh?"
Before her grandmother could respond, the door opened, and the nurse stepped in with the day’s newspaper folded under her arm, as usual.
“See? Just in time.” Alex raised an eyebrow, sharing a knowing look with her grandmother. The nurse offered a polite smile and set it down on the bedside table.
“Here’s your newspaper, Ms. Esther,” she said kindly.
“Thank you, dear,” her grandmother replied, returning the smile. As soon as the nurse left, she reached for the paper, playfully tapping Alex on the shoulder with it.
“Don’t bother me. I just like to read it from time to time.”
“Uh-huh,” Alex nodded, fully aware that it was a blatant lie. Her grandmother couldn’t go a single day without reading that piece of paper.
She crossed her arms over the back of the chair, a subtle smile barely noticeable on her lips as she watched her grandmother unfurl the newspaper with a focused look.
Immediately, the headline caught her eye but before she could do anything, her grandmother’s face fell, shock and dismay darkening her features as she took in the news.
“The Lunaris Painting Vanishes from the Atlas exhibition hall. Replica Found in Its Place.”
A large photograph of the painting of Lunaris —the white, flawless deity with her serene gaze and delicate robes— dominated the front page.
“Who would do such a dreadful thing?” her grandmother whispered, her voice trembling. “Stealing something so sacred… it’s monstrous.”
Alex licked her lips, swallowing the lump in her throat as tension stiffened her entire body.
“I don’t know…” she replied, her tone flat, devoid of any emotion.
Fortunately, her grandmother didn’t notice; she seemed lost in thought, still staring at the paper, murmuring to herself about the loss. Alex shifted her gaze to the window, where the gardens lay in the warm light, the white tower of Atlas gleaming in the distance.
“The worst kind of monster, I suppose,” she added quietly.