From the simple question, she should have realized just how poorly they were both doing, but Irene is too busy focusing on one thing at a time to recognize it, at least immediately. The tire iron is not as good as a crowbar, but it gives her some leverage, and shoving it between the building's facade and the plywood, she begins prying the wood away from the door.

"Who, the diplomat?" She applies more pressure, ignoring the way that it makes the wound bleed just a little more. "She was a client, but an interesting one."