( Her expression isn't quite deer in headlights, but it's definitely reminiscent of that and of someone with their hand in a cookie jar, and whatever other worn out, run down phrase you can think of for surprise. Sarissa is a cliche; her expressions, all of her is predictable. She isn't surprised any more, that she gets worked out so easily. People seem to see through her faster than an open window. )

Not your fault. Whole point is that I make a mess of words, right? I talk and I talk and nothing I say makes a lot of sense.

( She's tired. Incredibly, gut wrenchingly tired. )

I've been told... it's too much. The stuff I say. Like the way I talk burns people, but I keep holding their hand over the flame. I'm a bloody— I'm a nuclear reactor with more and more safety measures being turned off. I was stable and now I'm just a danger zone that people trust to be safe, but that's been poisoning them because all the safety measures have been taken away and no one got told.