She cast her eyes down and the seconds began to pile up as a cold silence gripped ahold of her. What was there to say to that? There was no defending what she'd done. Some tried to. Sam was especially fond of defending it. She bit down on her lower lip. She missed Sam. What a strange feeling. He'd defend it. They all had in their own way. It became a matter of the original New Mutants against the newer mutants. Had she had all of the pieces of her soul back together then she may have found it flattering. As it stood though, she couldn't help but think it just showed naivety. Blind loyalty.

It was odd though. Even back then she'd felt a swelling of appreciation towards them. Appreciation that mixed dangerously with hints of resentment. Emotions were far too complicated.

And now it was all being brought back up again, except this time there was no Sam to stand between her and what happened. There was no Piotr to step in for her and insist that she was his Snowflake and anyone that spoke about what happened in Limbo would answer to him. There was just her. Her standing with her eyes cast down refusing to even consider looking up at Jacob.

"Ah, Pixie," she said quietly. "I needed it and she was more than willing to give a piece up." Her words were flat, as if she were just reciting a fact. "I didn't have one of my own at the time and it was making reclaiming Limbo...difficult." And that had been all that had mattered to her: victory over Belasco. She swallowed and finally cast a glance over to him.

"Have you lost your soul before? Or just had pieces chipped away?" Too few people understood the fragility of a soul. They thought that Satan showed up with a contract and poof, that was it, your soul was gone. It was easier to think of it that way. The truth, in her mind at least, was that a soul was a delicate thing. Deals and excessive use of the black arts were hardly the only way that a soul could be tainted.