With a look of utter disdain and disgust towards the general direction of town, Mel curses, "Che palle," and looks back up at him. "I'm telling you right now, pippolo mio, I won't be able to make it to the bar."

Getting upright will steal the strength she has left, and it's plain fact that by the time Damien made it there and back, she'd be dead from starvation. Or...whatever the hell happens. Coma? The Goddess doesn't want to find out, and all of this is evident on her face.

"Has to be something nearby, sì? Fruit or fungi?"