"I wouldn't say stronger, and this isn't a threat. It's not even the not-a-threat threat you get from rich people and vicars." Erin plucks the bloom with a small wince of pain and offers it to Crabb; as her arm returns to something human, her palm is oozing blood, as if scraped roughly or perhaps pierced with a small needle. "I just..."

She sighs. "...I'm trying to get out of the habit of talking down to people about things they don't have the context to understand, is all."