"You would if Crux hovered over your shoulder your whole childhood going on and on about cleaning stairs with your gristle and melting your fat to make soap and making your skeleton farm snow leeks until it falls apart and—" Gideon stops herself. "I've never needed thought to think about what will happen to my corpse."

"On the other hand," Gideon counters, "Most death in battle and war doesn't have much point. Just cut the shit. Straight to the point."