[ Oh hey, this additional girl is chiming in again. She had to clean up after falling victim to Kneesocks's spit-take, okay. ]

Let's not jump to conclusions, Miss Kneesocks. After all, there's no way that morbid, acetic, gothic-flavored gutter angel, with great sugary globs of fat where her bustline ought to be, could possibly have followed us here, of all places. It'd be a most ironic, unpleasant joke!

[A pause of her own, and then her voice is much more pointed - and much more clearly directed at the Gear. ]

Wouldn't it?