She considers him from her lofty perch, all of her five feet and two inches above him. She's smudged with mud and dust and blood. There's a long black scab on one leg that looks like it might be the beginnings of an infection, and part of the skin on her face has been abraded away. It used to have scars that glowed red-- and now it looks like lava around the islands of red/brown dried blood. They've all lost weight.

He still looks like shit, though. She didn't lie about that-- but the smirk comes sudden, like the punchline to a joke.

"Are you trying to chat me up? Rude, and vain, wow."