“I’m tired of Earth,” she says in an upcast, dreamily introspective lilt, moistening her cupid’s bow with a swift kink of her tongue, “These people. I’m tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.” of course, she was quoting one of her very ironically appointed idols, Dr. Manhattan. Wistfully throwing up the copperygreen of her gaze to the nightsky.
“Whatever. I guess I can do that. Annoying lesson or not.” she’s reminded of a particular somebody in town, who certainly knew how to organize and adult much better than most. “There’s another witch here. Her name’s Delyth. She might be somebody to tap.”
… especially for potions, when this wretched idea hatches within her just now, gleaming.