[Kesara does like to think of herself as a woman of initiative, even if her stomach does another eel-like little flop at the sight of Vriska preparing to cut into her leg. She's thinking of Quark... but that never really happened, she tells herself sternly.] Are you going to be all right -

[No, asking that is probably a bad idea. She doesn't want Vriska to think she's a squirmy little grub.] - hiding it? You don't want your trouser leg to soak. Here, look, I've got -

[She ducks into her bag, and emerges with her little wooden begging bowl.] Not too much? I just need to get it in my eyes. Maybe up my nose. If my nose really bled and I mixed it in that would look horrific.