The staggering look of absolute disdain on her face is masked only by the napkin she has pressed under her alarmingly serious nosebleed. She could not possibly look less pleased with that answer. She gives a ragged sigh and attempts a long, calming inhale through her nose but to no avail. She ends up sputtering and grimacing and then looks even less pleased.

This is all rather messy.

"It would be quite an ignoble death," or perhaps will be, "but not the least pleasant I've had. That I will revive at the behest of magic is less than comforting, but I suppose it's not entirely intolerable. Life is, no offense, generally preferable to the alternatives."

She has to swap to the next napkin after a moment and scowls at the growing stack. It is more dramatic than she would like, but not nearly life threatening. Still, it is concerning that collapsing into an alternate is so unpredictably different than what she's used to. The odds of having an aneurysm on this ship are much higher than they ought to be, it seems.

"I suppose I shall have to investigate all the magic abound. If a clarification arises, I shall inform you."