*stares at you, shocked all over again (did you seriously just... forget Tanya's name?)* *incredulously* What, you mean aside from the part where we're still cleaning up the mess he left and (*gestures at your left hand*) she's still not talking to you?
You were... a stripper?
*and somehow, that brings the fury to life all over again, as her brain tries desperately to make you make sense* *folds her arms, tight and defensive, and glares at you* No, really. I'd love to hear your excuse. What happened to beating the unholy hell out of any asshole that looked wrong at me? Or, sorry, does that only apply to the guys who didn't— (*mimics you*) —"cut out their hearts"? Whatever the hell that means.