Hippolyta knew there was no use arguing with Brynhildr, just as there would be no use arguing with Hippolyta either. So she shrugged. "Then I wish you luck, friend. I will drink to your death." Brynhildr would likely return to earth eventually, and even if she didn't... well, death was simply a thing that was inevitable.
She stretched an arm across herself, loosening the muscles there. "Mortal, yes. I work with him. My only plan is to make sure he doesn't tell more people. I'd have to remove him otherwise, and I have... a lingering fondness." It was said with hesitance, distaste at the idea of it and the knowledge that such emotion was weakness.