You... you... [Wait, hold on. No, the details are wrong. She Who Spins doesn't sound like this, doesn't use this language. Not enough menacingly echoed telepathic conversations, not enough talk about Secrets.]

... shit. I'm. [auuuuughrg this hurts Izzy's pride to admit.] Got it wrong. I was thinking of somebody else that was hounding me for a while. Also conspiculusly arachnoid, but with much less... [Looking Muffet up and down.] Refined taste.

Or taste at all. [Anyway, she's going to try to untangle herself both physically and socially out of this situation, calming down and carefully cutting strands of silk with one of her claws.] My apologies for the confusion.