Oh, that eyeroll was so totally caught. And today there's not a gracious bone in Clarke's body, and no attempt to sympathize with the upheaval that comes with suddenly waking up on board. This guy just sucks.

Ody is safely held in just one hand now, as Clarke holds up the other to tick suffrages off on her fingers like re-viewing a grocery list.

"Dying. Dying painfully. Dying and waking up to find out part of you went missing in the reanimation process. Almost dying and suffering a gut wound or dismemberment until the next time you actually die. Watching your friends die. Watching your friends be possessed. Killing your friends because they're possessed. Killing your friends because you were possessed. Being separated from your friends in a room full of hundreds of mounted heads and made to go through a door to your own worst nightmare one by one. Being forced to vote on who to murder. Knowing you could always disappear into a void of nothingness, knowing you'd be conscious and stuck the whole time. External torture. Internal torture. The special kind of torture that is watching Skulduggery Pleasant make eyes at the Captain. Food shortages. Some weird supernatural plagues. Zombies. Clowns. And the worst thing of all —"

Yeah, she absolutely ran out of fingers to count on, but can at least now point down at the floor for dramatic effect.

"Is the futility of knowing we're stuck, and there's probably no way out of this alive."