[At least he's not offended. She has a gift for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, her mind-to-mouth filter running on a lifelong malfunction. Her show of revulsion doesn't deafen her to that subdued chuckle. The sound helps draw her out of it even, though she has to give one final shudder and grimace.]

N-no wonder you're glad to see a pizza.

[Then the spotlight swivels back on her. A protest dies in her throat, nothing but a squeak escapes. She bites at her lip.

She's come to meager terms with the plurality of existence, of course. That doesn't stop the clench of her gut, the instinct to clam up and run. It's not like any of it is a secret back home, but so much of it should be. Who was involved with what part, the exploitations, the twists and turns, the depravity. None of it deserves to be spoken of. The finer details should be wiped clean, never to be repeated again. Never to be glorified.

Besides which, she hates being the center of attention. Or the bearer of bad news.

She scowls suddenly.]

You have to p-promise to believe me. It's going to sound stupid but...yours is at l-least ten times stupider! So you can't make fun of me! At all!