Redhawk Caldera Than lying at the sharp end of this knife

She flinched when Niamh growled, not because she minded, but because she honestly felt guilty for a second.  She hadn't even thought about that.  Shit.  Sorry.  She was tired and unwilling to fight on this point, mainly because she was so avid about fighting in the other sense.  She had to get Niamh to agree.

They're... well.  They're fucked up.  Fennec answered, a little churlishly, but straightforward.  The bleeding stopped, and we cleaned them up.  They're resting.  But I should've done more.  She growled.  Bronco'd been torn apart, and Alyx pinned, because her first move had missed entirely.  In a fight, one wrong step meant calamity, and she needed to learn how to hit every damn time.  Even when an enemy was nearly too quiet to hear.  Please.  She wasn't going to beg, but this was about the closest she'd get.  She didn't mind cleaning up messes but she wasn't okay when those messes were ones she could have helped to avoid in the first place.  She was upset, and angry, and needed this.