[Bottles. God only knows how many, and Adele takes steps to further temper her frustration. Lupin is likely either drunk, or hungover, and neither will be receptive to raving. She makes her way down to the tunnels and paces, much slower than she had before; the conversation with Obi-Wan had given her some measure of peace. Or it was the possibility of something to be done about being in the village that gave her focus. If she was perfectly honest with herself it was the latter.

At the clatter of a gun against concrete she turns, eyes tight and wary on the metal laying against the wall before she answers.]

I am not plotting anything- But you. You must be. Why else be mixing explosives in your apartment? [She stalls in her pacing long enough to reach down and pull the knife from her shoe, another slim one from the lining of her coat, and a long needle from her french roll. These she wraps up in a handkerchief and sets down by the abandoned Walther. He'd shown her that much courtesy, she will do the same.]

Even should you tell me I'm wrong, I will not believe you.