She has long abandoned hope of getting anywhere with retrieving Cricket on this night.
Her head clears.
She scrunches her eyes shut and emits a whimper that is purely about misery and not pain.
"Just give me my cat," she pleads. "I won't let him hurt anybody if you just let me have him now."
"[I'm sorry,]" sniffs Iobel. "[Too many to down now with what I've got even if the charge was instant.]"
"[The prince wants me to marry him and you're hostage. And don't tell me to tell them to go fuck themselves, kitty, I can't - I don't even know how bad it'll be - and they say I can have you back after.]"
"[They should all go fuck themselves! Marry him? He's so much trash, you shouldn't waste your time to spit on him!]"
"The fucking least you can do is let me talk to my familiar through the fucking door," hisses Iobel.
"[Are they taking you away? Do you have spells? Kill them all!]" advises Cricket. "[I know you don't like to but these are special!]"
"[I don't know how long they're giving me. I have half spells but they'll just hurt me again if I charge, kitty.]"
"[There is water, and food, but not enough to last forever, and I will make them sorry if they open the door,]" growls Cricket.
Cricket is usually impolite, not violent. This is a special occasion.
"[Don't, don't provoke them, kitty. They haven't hurt you yet but they can drop you in the fountain as many times as they want to if they decide to do more than lock you up.]"