"But--" For a minute the scientist battles with the rational side of her brain advising her not to piss off the person with the eight-to-twelve-inch knives embedded in her fists.

"I'm sorry, kid," she says, with a controlled sigh. "That's rough. I guess I should keep my nose out of your business, huh?"

Fuck, she needs a cigarette. She pats her pockets, glaring into the forest. "Which would make this a shit time to ask if you could catch one of those things, wouldn't it?"