Redhawk Caldera Chaconne

Fennec huffed impatiently when Niamh brought up that she had three other legs.  Moving is moving it.  You have to let it heal.  She retorted, but didn't push it any farther than that.  She couldn't make Niamh stay here and stay still, but she could tell her she was an idiot when her leg didn't heal right.

Niamh was right, though, about the basics of killing.  She couldn't have known for sure, but still... she'd sensed it and hadn't trusted her gut.  Apparently her gut had been exactly correct.  What if you could let them go, but if you do, they might come back?  And next time you might not catch them before they do something worse?  Fennec asked in response, a little less flatly but still subdued.  That had been her internal struggle and she still wasn't sure she had a handle on it.  Letting her go had resulted in Niamh's leg getting fucked like this and Bronco's dad's murderer almost running off scott free, and that made her feel even less sure.

So not in self defense.  But defending this place.  She knew she couldn't assume that anyone who asked about the Caldera meant ill, but Kiwi had proven it when she attacked.  She found herself hanging a little, waiting for Niamh's answer.  The way Bronco had always described his mom, and the way Fennec had seen her thus far, hadn't led her to believe she'd get this kind of conversation from the woman.  A part of her had wondered if Niamh wasn't secretly judging her for not finishing the job herself when she had the chance - just the way she'd been.