"I'll use toxins."
The shadows looming over them have crept into her normal vivid eyes. Her smile is lopsided, and offers no reassurance.
He doesn't look, he peeks at her, with his head dipped towards the stained earth and his skin battered and scratched.
Finally, he speaks, words nearly incomprehensibly uttered in an edgy murmur, choked in the back of his almost slit throat and straining between his tongue and teeth. His needle, he's lost long ago. "And where did you want to get those from?"
A grin spreads across her squalid face, and she reaches out to trace a finger across the bridge of his nose, like a housewife inspecting a cabinet for dust. "I am the apothecary," She answers, as she rises to her feet, one of her trademark scalpels sliding into her hand, "I have everything."