[Oh, Lup knows. She's noticed the new way that Lucretia holds herself since her arrival weeks before, the strength there in her stance, in her tone. Knowing the other woman's not nearly as delicate as they'd all teased her for brings a certain sense of relief. It reassures Lup that a touch of smoke won't immediately be Lucretia's downfall, even if it's hard to completely erase her worry. But she's talented enough at pushing that feeling down, down, down and never addressing it again.]

Right, [she responds with a shrug, all too casual. Like she doesn't know what Lucretia's saying. Her? Worry? Never.] I sure did. I expect you to write something awesome about me rushing in to rescue you. Feel free to leave out the part where we almost fell down the stairs.

[Lucretia's snort is a good distraction from the commotion behind them.] You're not wrong, none of us are writing down shit. But that crap's replaceable. You? Not so much.