"You're giving this to... me?" Hild seemed halfway between delighted and horrified to be offered the shiv by Fumbledog. "The canoness wouldn't even let me have a pair of scissors for fear I'd run with them." (She had been right, of course, and the fact that Hild had both her eyes was more a happy accident than anything else. Now those poor, poor curtains, that was another story.) "Thank you, of course," she nodded, "for the soup, which is a thing that needs flavor." She sprinkled the fire mushroom(?) on her soup, on the off-chance it was poisonous there would suddenly be an illness that the drow needed to take care of. Someone was always faking an illness in prison escapes (at least as far as she knew), so the real thing would probably be better, right?<br/><br/>"Austrahild Wanderfoot. Just call me Hild, please, there's no need to be formal." What a silly thing to say in conditions like these.