[I don't know is not an acceptable answer, but it's the one that twists, sick, like a knife in Darlene's stomach. A lack of direction does not suit her. Even when she wasn't hitched to fsociety, she could at least be angry, point that anger at the targets that deserved it most. The rich, the moguls, the one percent profiting off of everyone else. The ones who fucked her family.

Here, it's like, where does she point all that anger? The symbiote is already in her brain. Turn her rage there and she turns it on herself. She didn't ask for this shit. She didn't ask to be rescued: but she was. So now what.

All of this leaks out from the staunch barriers Darlene has already put up. Doubt, uncertainty, like an ooze. She twists her hands around the pack.]

I'll figure it out.

[Determination colors those words, blooms like a fire.]

All I know is I am not going to present my ass to get fucked. If I play along, there is a time limit on that shit. [She shoots him a glance, calculating.] What about you?