Information. That was what she needed, that was what she'd decided months ago on the roof, with the truth (what she'd thought was the truth) of her existence a raw and stinging burn. A hug wasn't gonna fix anything, but information— if she just had the facts down (if she could just figure out who this Goldenhawk guy was, if she just knew what Archer was, if someone would just tell her what it meant to be Apollo's kid, if she could just get somebody to draw up the rules of this fucked-up logicless world she'd fallen into) she could figure out what to do with— with all this. Except with every new piece of information it seemed like Rosario knew even less than she had before, and these days she couldn't even trust the fundamental laws of physics to behave the way they were supposed to.
She just wanted an instruction manual. Was that too much to ask?
Rosario stared down at her coffee cup, suddenly finding herself unable to meet Clio's eyes. She had a horrible feeling the goddess was gazing at her with sympathy. "I think," she said slowly, "I'mma have some cake. If that's okay."