Like I got punch in the throat and stabbed a whole bunch is what Saturday intends to say. What comes out is a dry croak and a dusty sigh. Saturday makes a face and tries to work up some spit - her mouth is dry as a bone. All it does, somehow, is make the pain worse - like the muscles of her throat and mouth themselves are sore.

She scowls, and looks around for a water pitcher or something to write on.