But Why is the Pesto Gone?

When Sparrow did not double down with her against their involvement but instead confirmed it, Pesto's jaw dropped and it dropped hard. She stared in disbelief at the other woman for a moment, blinking rapidly. She was so taken back by the blatant agreement that Pesto was struggling to find the words to refute it again, and then Asvor was dismissing the subject entirely to do the very important work of a healer and Pesto obediently sat her ass back down.

"My neck is probably the worst, Alarr's already patched it up a bunch of times and the only reason the bitch got the edge on me was because she tore it open again." Having been maimed twice now, the side of her neck was scattered in scars both old and new. "Then they kicked me off a cliff, so, I don't know." The exhaustion of the adrenaline coming down was beginning to wear on her, and she was struggling to find what body parts hurt the most when her entire body felt like it had been hit by a car. "My ribs, I guess. And my neck, and my leg. And everything else." She turned towards Sparrow, directing towards the other woman the glariest of glares. "And whatever else will hurt after I kick the living shit out of Sparrow, I guess you should heal that too later."