As Wichita should, Cindy would say, about her feeling inadequate. She's clearly a Mundy, just by her aura, not by her fashion sense. Cindy's unsure of whether this girl could take going into the fog every so often to go monster hunting and bring back tidbits of materials to sell on the black market. Aside from the general monster thing, there are the side effects of the fog: the dreams, psychological disturbances, the terrible sleep. Things that even Cindy can't shake herself.

If this child can let those things not affect her actions, she might have a chance. If she doesn't, Wichita is as good as dead. And Cindy isn't going to tell Rex "I told you so." Okay, no. She totally fucking will.

"That is the question I'll be asking, thanks." She leans forward to dust off the ashes into a chipping ashtray in the middle of the table before continuing to speak, using her cigarette for emphasis. "You want a job. Sell yourself."