"F-frankenstein?" the pink-haired woman choked before belting out a loud, delighted laugh. "Oh man, no kidding...it totally does sound like Frankenstein. Wait til I see that little nerd again. I'm totally calling him that," she added with playfully malicious glee.

"But nah, I ain't worried about him. He's pretty resilient. He might be able to blow himself up but I'm pretty sure no one can completely do it themselves. He's probably floating around as space dust or meat mist or something. He'll figure it out sooner or later," she remarked with a dismissive shrug. "Word of advice - if you ever get married, hitch up with someone at least as hardy as yourself. Huge load off the mind."

Turning and dusting herself off Roze peeked around the alley corner before reaching up to adjust herself, tugging the straps of her bra with an unladylike grunt.

"So some fuckin' douchebag blew everything up and himself? Awwwwesome. And there's no way to like...bring him back to kill him better or something?"