“Mosca said nothing. The word ‘damsel’ rankled with her. She suddenly thought of the clawed girl from the night before, jumping the filch on an icy street. Much the same age and build as Beamabeth, and far more beleaguered. What made a girl a ‘damsel in distress’? Were they not allowed claws? Mosca had a hunch that if all damsels had claws they would spend a lot less time ‘in distress’.”
“Penelope glared at her, “Madame said that men love damsels in distress. She failed to point out that damsels in distress look wretched, miserable and downright horrid.”“Men do love damsels in distress. We simply need to look lovely while fighting mortal peril.”
“I don't damsel well. Distress, I can do. Damseling? Not so much.”
“I'd never been a good damsel in distress. I was a "hands-on" damsel.”
“I’m not a damsel and there is no distress”
“What happened to the days of the hero rescuing the damsel in distress?" Not that I could envisage Heather as a damsel in distress."Those days are long gone, Brendan. Nowadays, the damsel takes care of herself, and on occasion she might even rescue the hero, if she feels he deserves it.""I'm screwed, then.”