"Oh my god."

Darcy was apparently torn between a shriek and an inability to actually form words with that one, evening out somewhere around a high-pitched, strangled whisper. It didn't stop her throwing, too, of course- she'd played enough Left For Dead to know you never stopped hitting A- but this was not doing wonders for her mental health.

"Please, oh please let a shrink be the next recruit to satan's army when we're out."