"I'm great," she says, though there are cracks in her voice and she's never been a very good liar. Which, whatever, this is all of Danny's fault for planning something so romantic when it was clearly never meant to be to begin with. Maybe she's just as doomed in Darrow as she was back home. It's been a year since she's even gotten laid, so nothing seems to be boding well.

Sitting down at the table she stares at the cake. "What about your hand?"