"How very Fourth of you," Gideon mutters. Her eyes are on the construct, running over the bones and returning again and again to the sword arms. Surely Harrow did it both to be kind (in deference to Gideon's preference for swords) and to be cruel (due to Gideon's preference for swords). Sephiroth gets to fight it, lucky bastard. She's light on her feet and hopes without much hope that he needs assistance, and Gideon gets to have her way with it. She is used to fighting constructs, monstrous Lyctor-level ones even.

Gideon assumed the answer is no to Seph's question. Cytherea hadn't had to be near hers, and it had fought like a rabid animal stuck in a room. Harrow's a Lyctor herself now. Use me, Gideon thinks, though Harrow using magic hasn't felt anything like that experiment in the lab.