"Oh, no. No." God, she hoped not, but with her bad luck, it wouldn't surprise her. "This was a particular spell and I-" she paused and glanced away, ashamed. She'd done reading afterwards, found out exactly what had gone wrong, what she'd done wrong. Actually owning up to it was embarrassing, especially given what followed.
"I mistranslated, basically. I was sure the spell would do one thing, and when I botched the incantation, it tore out my soul." Well, it looked like he was getting the details after all. Now that she'd started, she couldn't seem to stop. It was sort of cathartic to let lay it out into a logical (if ridiculous) chain of events. The story of her mistakes wasn't finished, either. When Wanda blundered, she did it spectacularly.
"Over time I realized I was becoming, I don't know, detached? I couldn't feel anything, no good or bad. Nothing. And my powers were draining. So I started poking in places I shouldn't have to find out where my soul was. I should've been more cautious, but I wasn't afraid, I wasn't anything. I just did it. And it was like an invitation, I suppose. I let a lot of bad things know I was an empty vessel and that my soul was in purgatory and up for grabs." She fell silent then, musing over the how's and why's, giving him time to process the excess of information she'd just dumped in his lap. It was definitely more than he'd asked for.