Truth plants a hand on one slim hip, looking around a room that was frighteningly devoid of options, foot tapping to some unheard beat.  When one is a career thief, dangerous situations are just an expected hazard of the job, and you develop the skills to find ways out even in cages such as this.  Or you wind up dead, bleeding out thanks to angry security guards or in the rarest of occasions, crawling mutant demon things that delight in burrowing into flesh before gnawing away at tender squishy inner bits.  Or that fellow on the intercom, who could probably perform even more unholy rites upon an interloper's body.<br/><br/>A shudder runs up the woman's spine before she can suppress the thought, refocusing.<br/><br/>She never gets the opportunity to find an escape when one is presented to her, the explosive pressure sending her flying forward onto her stomach with ringing ears and blurry vision.  As she pushes herself up onto elbows, she risks a glance back over her shoulder, crawling away from the impact point and behind the nearest cover, slipping the woefully inadequate handgun from a holster as she places her back against the upturned table, papers scattered across the floor... some even smoldering from the heat.  Fumbling fingers flip back the safety, and load a bullet into the chamber with a soft mechanical click.<br/><br/>"I'm going to be fine, I'm going to be fine, I'm going to be fin--" A soft, but fiercely repeated mantra serves as a comfort for the young woman as she finally risks a peek over the barricade toward the hole, eyes wide and darting around as she tries to peer through the smoke and see what doom actually awaits her.  "If you can hear me, and /don't/ want to eat me... I'm not your enemy!"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>