"Just--just don't fuckin' talk to me!" Beatrid choked, because she was done. She was so, so done! She'd become a fugitive, just like that, but not even that compared to THIS! Finally, after years of soldiering, of getting bloodied up and bloodying up others, of dealing with battlefield offal and other sorts of nastiness...nope, this was her limit. She'd finally found it today. Her limit was getting covered in SHIT!
And she didn't want to talk because some of that had come awfully close to her mouth, and because she imagined that by opening her mouth, she could taste the awful stench in the air!
And she couldn't even wipe off her mouth because her arm was covered in shit!
She was, at that moment, half tempted to just let the guards catch her and take her away, because at least she'd be out of this godforsaken sewer!
Instead, she thrust a hand into the mush and shoved Gherrick's bo staff at him with a withering look, then grabbed his hand (ew, ew, their hands squelched together!) and took off at a run. Well, as much as you could run through the muck of a sewer.
Fortunately, the guards were human.
Seemed they were having a difficult time with the smell, too.