She crossed her arms. "I am Vasilia Aliena and I do not like this coercion. Again, who are you?"

Perhaps even she realized that it was unwise to blame the man for this; the journals were full of similar stories, there was no factor that would have spared her nor any evidence to incriminate him. But frustration without target was frustration that she did not know how to process; so she glared, balefully.

She was already sure that wherever he expected her to accompany him would be unpleasant and at her own expense. And yet-- not sure why.

Paranoid, mocked Sherlock's voice in her memory. Delusional.

Oh, today she hated everyone.