"Is that... It can't be..." Jacoby shook his head. "Please... by the divines... Please tell me that's not... Not..."
"Rosalba," Emerick sighed. Her metallic, dusty rose locks were unmistakable, even from a distance. "Believe me, I don't like the looks of this anymore than you. I can't imagine what that girl could possibly be thinking."
"It doesn't take much imagination to know," Jacoby replied, sounding oddly defeated. "The better question would be at what volume and octave of the 'war cry' is set."
"Are we sure it's a war cry and not a shriek of delight?" Emerick wondered.
"Is there a difference when it comes to Princess Rosalba?" Jacoby replied. Emerick could only shrug.
