"What do you mean? A sword goes with everything," she jokes, patting tide-cutter where it's lying on the bed, "where I go, it goes."

"Anyway," Darcy states, standing, fastening the sword-belt around her exposed middle, "all of you try not to die while I'm out," and with that, she exits to head towards the wood. She's taking the clipboard, because she doesn't trust any of those fuckers not to mess with it.