"Okay," she agrees almost reluctantly - fingers tightening accordingly and sucking in a deep, steadying breath. This ought to be fun.

It's barely a few steps before the breath comes back out in a hissed whimper, eyes slitting to accompany the mental commentary of, 'Ow, ow - fuck - ow!'

No one ever claimed that Yvaine had a particularly pleasant mental commentary. She figures that it's a sign of maturity that it remains mental.

... or at least it would have if another loud screech hadn't prompted a yelped reiteration of some choice bits.