"Hm, I don't know," she says, as if she's weighing the options, when in reality, she's pretty sure she'll stick around through absolutely anything. That thought, more than any others she's had, is the one that's scary, because bailing when things get rough is kind of what she does. It's a self-preservation tactic, it keeps her from getting hurt, and even with Harry, who had been the most serious relationship she's had before this, she'd spent a lot of time under the influence of something. They'd talked about the war he'd been in once or twice, but for the most part they'd avoided anything serious and she's not doing that here. In fact, she's not avoiding much of anything and she sure as hell isn't spending most of her time stoned.

"So you're armless, but you still have your legs, right?" she asks, just barely managing to keep a straight face. "Actually, more importantly, do you still have your dick? I can probably overlook the lack of arms if you still have all your other working parts." But then she smiles, unable to keep it up and her nose wrinkles as she shrugs. "Yeah, I'll still like you. And if you don't have any arms, at least I won't catch you trying to change lightbulbs."