Firefly Ravine timmy turner made money off the iraq war

"oh? is that so?" Huntington mused quietly, wondering what became of the being that had assaulted the woman before her. perhaps it was best not to know, for they seemed sure of no threat. yet she was never one to shy away from detail, no matter how grim it happened to be. no, she did not even blink at such news. she sees the wound had been cleaned a bit, and does not ask to do such a thing. the other does not seem to enjoy her open staring.

but she did not care. tearing her eyes away from the wounds, she stared instead at the face of the woman. "a pack conflict, perhaps?" she attempted to keep the conversation flowing despite her own social graces being slim to none. no news was bad news to her. if there was a pack nearby, and in fighting form, she did not want to get swept up in their complexity. Huntington assumed due to the pack scent on this one it was one of border troubles or even war. that was all it was though. assumptions.