Johanna's attention is fixated on her feet. She stands flat-footed, but her body moves in fluid motions to try and inspect the ground beneath her, which stands out compared to the luxury of the rest of the floor. "You think this is some kind of sick twist?" she asks. "That maybe they dropped us into one of their palaces? They wouldn't," she snorts, ridiculing her own idea as soon as she's expressed it. "They wouldn't dare let us taint their precious image with the death they seem to love so much." A frustrated scream builds in her throat, but she keeps it in. The only sound that escapes is a glimmer of that frustration through a nearly feral growl that she tamps down. "Maybe we can shift the weight with something else. Give me something heavy and we'll make sure they still think someone's on it."

Does she believe that will work? Honestly, Johanna doesn't even know. She really didn't think her part in the revolution died on the launch pad. "If they think we're going to kill each other this early in the game, they're idiots," she comments with thick disdain.