Lion Head Mesa whisper of the night [wp]

His smile was crooked. Cruel, almost, with the sharpness of alcohol turning his tumultuous thoughts into a sharpened arrow of anger.

Nothing. He said, tail giving a short flick.

If she has damned herself to this, there is little we can do. Besides, perhaps, pray she sees light. Or, maybe, that Siptah stands down. Or to the gods themselves, to hope they have not found offense. He shook his head.

Other then that, child, I have little to nothing.