[She's rolling with it, amicable enough (if she's ever even vaguely capable of the word) - because he's not wrong; she's not exactly hot on the idea of saying and doing anything while in confinement or otherwise that's likely to stretch her neck out any further. There's a reason she's been so tight lipped with her visitors and it sure as hell isn't because she like keep quiet. There's more than one person on the ship with an axe in hand; making herself a bigger target in the near future doesn't about as fun as taking a walk in space without a helmet.
But the last part sharpens something in her she's worked the last handful of hours to forcibly smooth. She is abruptly hawkish, eyes narrowing and the line of her back straightening until she's drawn to her full height. It's a difference of a few degrees, but a noticeable one: something predatory rising to the surface.]
no subject
But the last part sharpens something in her she's worked the last handful of hours to forcibly smooth. She is abruptly hawkish, eyes narrowing and the line of her back straightening until she's drawn to her full height. It's a difference of a few degrees, but a noticeable one: something predatory rising to the surface.]
So where's Honey?