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It was almost an 'I wish' Fiyori would've said to reply. She wished she had a gun. She didn't though. And she held up fairly well all things considered.

"I have lock picks and Isabel's sickle. The sickle's on my belt and I'd rather leave it there."

The reasoning was perhaps not too obvious, but Fiyori didn't feel it needed explanation. Isabel's sickle, the instrument of murder in so many cases. The blood of so many people stuck and dried. And yet the blade was still sharp enough. Not as good as it was once, Fiyori guessed, but still enough to - say - cut open a water bottle or contaminate her food.

If she put it in her bag, that is. Which she didn't.

Fiyori entered. At first, she didn't look at Coleen, but at the sorry damage in the wall caused by her and Alba's and Brendan's little marksman training a few days ago. Obviously, it still had to be there. Figured the terrorists wouldn't bother fixing the hole, but Fiyori still felt mild surprise upon seeing it.

"Thank you for not shooting me. I appreciate it. If it makes you feel better, you can keep the gun close." Her eyes drifted over to the AK-47, then fixated on the spear nearby for a moment.

She was a few yards away from Coleen. Fiyori halted, and then finally tried to make eye contact with Coleen.

"I'd like to rest a bit here. Just a few minutes then I'll bugger off. If that isn't a problem."
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