Magne huffs and shakes her head, reaching for a drink, herself. "A man like that, I'm not surprised he has dirty laundry."

A glance sideways at him, and she picks up that preoccupation. Her hand moves to rest over his wrist, thumb just shy of the row of staples keeping the seam between skin and scar sealed. "If you managed to pull that off, then the others will be able to finish the job, I'm sure. Then it's just a matter of the rest of the country. Nothing worth doing has ever been done peacefully anyway."