Gideon doesn't understand why Harrow looks the way she does right now, but she can't bring herself to care: she throws her hands up so she can keep from throttling her necromancer. "Then I guess I'll look for another note!" she yells, pissed off and hurting and fearful of something she can't define.

"I can't believe I thought...for even a second! That you might have my back."

You did good.

"You don't want me here? Fuck! I don't want to be here! I could be doing something useful with my time, like looking for Protesilaus the Seventh!"