"Hey, get your eyes off of the merchandise. I'm going to have to find some way to make money when I get out of this place, and I'm thinking that becoming a stripper in a fetish club is looking like the only viable option since every other employer thinks I'm terminally ill. If I let you look at it for free, it sets an unfair precedent, and that isn't something I want to deal with down the road. Gotta support L somehow. He was raised rich, and whether he's my boyfriend or more like my adopted kid, money has to come from somewhere." She smirked, listening to him prattle on. His voice, that twang, was like listening to music. At first she'd thought it was going to be annoying, and she had to concentrate on it at times, but it was getting easier to understand what he was saying. "A shoulder angel, though, I could be in the market for. I think that mine gave up and went on strike or quit completely given the circumstances of my death. I think, after that, the poor little bugger had just had it. Tossed up his arms and said 'Laura Moon, I wash my hands of you!' and off he went into the sunset. That'd explain how things got to where they are."
She didn't know what to do with her free flailing arm. Having it in her pocket for too long seemed unnatural. She went to cross her arms over her chest, but there was nothing to cross. She couldn't even put it behind her head. Lacking any solution, she let it hang, her hand swinging on the breeze as they walked. It was interesting to her to hear about Edward, to know that he was some kind of robot, but it also made her feel more alone. Everyone thought he was a dear. Everyone thought she was just...eerie and aloof. And apparently Logan felt the need to tell people when they guessed correctly about her being dead. She was still feeling a little bit bitter about that. Ianto did not need to know that she was deceased; he knew that, and he hadn't even met her yet. Damn him, he was really killing her chances at a social undeath.
For someone who did not know very much in life, Laura knew an awful lot about death and about undeath and about everything in between. She'd become somewhat of an expert, an occultist, whatever title seemed viable. Following a few paces behind him, ready to take any attacks from anything that was sneaking up on them from behind, she thought for a moment. "My arm will grow back," she said, "and so will the chunk of flesh missing from my side. My eye will be completely restored. I will be better than normal, in fact, because Norn water doesn't just heal wounds, it reverses time. None of these wounds, if we found it, would ever have happened to my body. For me, it cannot reverse time enough to make me live. But it can bring me to the point of death's door, those last few moments when you're alive but not really. That's why I'll be able to breathe. I'll feel warm. I'll bleed. But time always moves forward around you, so the effects that are that drastic will eventually fade away. They only last for about a day. The Norn water brings you back to the point of birth, they say. It just takes me back to the point at which I was born into this particular existence." She smirked at the back of his head. "You know, if you drank it, I think you'd be able to get a lot of women, and they'd all be beautiful, and older, and voluptuous. They'd think you were just adorable. They'd also be feeding you pureed carrots and changing your diapers. But you'd have preschool to look forward to, and you'd get to see an awful lot of breasts."