[Well, who is Rey to judge. She can't even remember the last time she considered herself "into" something.]

If we're doing this, it won't be from the gods. So the debt is neither here nor there. That is only a last resort, anyway.

[The kettle whistles. And Rey turns her attention to that, pouring a couple mugs of whatever tea there is on hand up here.]

For nearly a century, I couldn't eat. Rather, couldn't enjoy eating. It was... a chore. Not because I was picky or anything. Food just didn't taste right to me. It was foul. Made me want to vomit. Used to dread the next meal.

Most people take that shit for granted. But I sure as hell wouldn't wish that on anyone else.