[ She lets Ilde detangle from her, mentally, physically, and it is exhausting, a shuddering shake that moves through and the programs held deep within her mind chatter with concern. When she lets it drop, it's like letting go of a breath she was holding onto. She staggers, catching herself on the terminal, head down, sucking in like she'd been running. It kicks her like a craving, sharp to her stomach, the want of eridium. She would have no trouble with it coursing through her veins again, and her fingers curl around and in a need to hold steady.

But -- no, that's just exhaustion talking and she shakes her head. She chose this, she wanted this, she would keep wanting this, she's not what Jack wants her to be, she wants to be who she wants to be. ]

Trust me, or don't. That's up to you, but I can tell you I'm no witch, and I'm not an angel either. I'm not here to lie to you and pretend I'm pure either, so you can make of it what you want. I'm done with... with all of it.

[ For good or for ill, whatever that came of it. ] But I do know these powers are what we make of them, so... if it's love then, that's as good as anything else I've ever seen it been used for.