"I think you've made good of what you've been dealt." Lucia Corina ducks her head, embarrassed at being called good. "If you don't mind, I... all right. I just don't..." She trails off, struggling to phrase her dread. "I know I don't have very much to offer. I'm-- other people are more important to help, I'm sure." She's only ever been wanted for ornament, after all. The songbird.