Alley barks out a sharp, unfriendly laugh. She folds her arms -- or, arm and bar, more like -- and leans against the doorway.

"Considering I'm still standing on my feet despite that belt-sander, and you're literally turning green on a bed? I like my odds just fine."

Yeah, no. Alley's pretty sure an upset stomach wouldn't slow her down for even a moment.

"Want me to find more pills for you to swallow? Maybe we can turn you purple next."