Oh, dude, I'm not looking for good food. I'm looking for the shittiest, greasiest thing in the world. Real Recollé-style pizza. [and she's at least feeling better enough to put on a fake fantasy new york accent and lean into it.] The thinnest crust imaginable, pepperoni curled up so it just becomes a little edible cup of grease, slices so big you gotta fold them up with one hand so you can flip off the people on the street with the other.

[and she cuts the accent before it gets too silly. this is a serious conversation. she clears her throat.]

Anyway. None of that probably made any sense to you, 'cause I don't think Remnant has a city like mine, but. Whatever, I said it anyway. [she's not even forcing a casual smile anymore.] I ain't gonna bail now, is what I'm saying, I guess.