(Okay, now he's spiraling too, great, just great, best job ever, Jinx, totally sound tactics, not like you're royally fucking this up, and then being overly dramatic about it because there are no emotional balancing skills in your skull whatsoever. Good for you!

Brain, shut up. She can't even focus on her hair so she's not even trying to braid it but instead, all her focus goes to stop the thousand strings of negative self-talk that isn't always coming from self until she growls and stomps with all her strength.

Focus. Don't explode.

... Explode?)

Grr, it's not about you. It's about me, hello, remember, the drug-dealing, criminal empire heiress terrorist of every Piltie's nightmare? I like being around you, but if you're out, Silco is going to have three gazillions heart attacks, at that old age? He's not going to make it, all because I decided I really like spending all my time with an Enforcer, which in case it's not clear, is a catastrophically massive issue.

(This is as much as she is able to tell him, bless her heart.)

... Just wait. Later, alright, just. Let me — just fix it.

(What the fuck does that mean, she doesn't know either. She'll just fix it. Somehow.)