Gideon smiles, faintly, shifting her leg under the table so that she can nudge Maeve's knee with hers.

"It's a really shitty, ridiculous story," she says. "So, the necromancers were all...in competition, I guess? And Harrow promptly fucked off and left me to my own devices, but only after she'd told me that I couldn't talk to anyone, so there I was - robes, skull paint, the whole nine years. Looking like a complete Bone nun douchebag. And, remember, I'm not a proper fucking cavalier, so I was just...faking it for all I was worth."