[ Jill notices how Clive's breathing seems to ease, but her own remains tense, reflecting the tension in her posture. Ardbert might seem hopeful, but Jill can't help but feel that the knife might drop at any moment for either her or Clive, perhaps even both of them. How long can they continue walking the knife's edge that they seem to be on until something pushes them over?

Still, she knows better than to give voice to these thoughts, because they are far too grim and hopeless to speak out loud. No, it is better to believe that Ardbert's friends can aid them somehow and see them out of the mess they're in. ]

I suppose that we have no choice but to believe you... and to trust you. [ Trust is a hard thing for Jill, but something about Ardbert's demeanor seems trustworthy enough. ] Ardbert... [ She focuses her gaze on him for a moment or two, because he seems familiar somehow. ] Jill. And I suppose that "lost" is one word to describe us. Outsiders might be a better one.