"I think this is more than a rough patch. I think its a whole forest." A forest like Spectral Woods that was dark, murky, and impenetrable. "But..." She wasn't apologizing to hear him go on valiantly like some romantic hero, even though it was Alastor. This is what Alastor always did: he reassured her, he was steadfast, and he had a lot of feelings. But right now it felt like a lot of bullshit. (Especially the best friend bit. It might be true, and he might believe it, but it wasn't what she wanted. "Thanks, I guess. That was all I was trying to say... or well. " She stopped. She sighed.
"Look I was only... trying to bring this up,"—this being what Draven had told her—"Because of what's coming. Like... I know what time it is... remember... last year? Uhm. I just wanted to say that I'm probably going to be more on edge. And harder to put up with." Actually, it was worth nothing that probably everyone everywhere they went would be, too. "So I just wanted to give you the heads up. Just so you didn't think... think it was me." But it was her. This was her life now: irritable, tired, miserable, useless.
A small, not-so-threatening rain cloud.