Lisbeth wants to go stand in the road and smoke three more cigarettes before any of this goes down, or maybe take a few laps on her bike, or just beat the fucking shit out of something--

Maybe later.

Marcus and Viktor can be trusted. They'll do what they can to get Sam back, and what's more, they'll lend the kind of emotional support that makes her want to snarl like a feral cat.

She stands there, not willing to sit just yet, her tiny form drawn rigid, jaw working.

"He told me. He no longer has a soul."