The three constants in life; death, taxes, and crazy. And for some people, alcohol's involved in all three.

"Uh, you know, pretty normal." She spreads her hands in a wide shrug, to encompass how weird this situation has been in comparison. "More normal than this, anyway. Maybe not that normal," she admits, her voice dropping to a more defensive tone, before lightening again.

"I was traveling on a job for this... literally underground crime boss. We were this little... I don't know, brand new mercenary band, we were taking odd monster-slaying jobs from the government and whatever else caught our attention. It was going to be some pretty good money."