Emma was fairly impressed by the ghouls atntics.  The deathklaw was massive... and sadly everyone had survived, just by the law of averages, being around this many armed people, meant Emma was in trouble.  If for no other reason then all she had was a stashed away pocket knife and the quarter stick of dynamite.<br/><span style="color: blue">“Whats that you were sayin’ about bein’ measured in ‘givin a fuck’?”</span>Emma stares at the ghoul as she unties her wrists.<span style="color: blue"> “If we’re measuring brains , you two are shit out of ‘em.”  </span>Turncoat rubs her wrists, her anger still very evident, however she does seem visibly less on edge once she is released.  She wanted to hate the pair of em’.  But the Ghoul had helped her, and went on to help the witless bastards foolhardy enough to get caught with their pants down within in the canyon.  Maybe she wasn’t all bad..<span style="color: blue">“Thankyou.”</span>She offers the woman quietly, a almost offering a smile- hopefully her words are quiet enough that the ranger didn’t hear.<br/><br/>She turns to the Ranger. While the shuffler wasn’t all bad, this ranger-fuck was seemingly everything she loathed. The sooner that dumb bastard went to hell. The better.  Her hoarse voice becomes uppity again, mocking and sardonic as she raises her hands to the sides of her face, balls them in to fists, and squeals. She answers the rangers musing as to whether the chopper was after her as well,<span style="color: blue">“OOOOO lets hope so!”</span>Her feigned smile is as wide as the horizon.<br/><br/>It fades quickly to a staunch serious expression, running a hand through her flat Mohawk, she continues<span style="color: blue">, “Just my luck I get another group of you merc shit-heads after me for no fucking reason.” </span>She now beams with a genuine smile,<span style="color: blue">“If I get my way, and I usually do, I’ll get to watch you all  try an’ kill each other. Real ‘last man standing‘ shit.”</span>She points to Loretta.<span style="color: blue"> “My moneys on the shuffler.”</span>She turns back to the Ranger, eyeing him up and down<span style="color: blue"> “You’ll be  the first to go.”</span><br/><br/>She looks off towards the chopper as two figures walk out of the billowing dust, a heave of frustration escapes her lungs.  She’s exhausted, needs water, food, whisky and maybe a fuck. Not necessarily in that order. She cracks her head from side to side, rolling her shoulders as they crack as well.  She scratches the rather disfigured half of her face and groans, as the pair approaches<span style="color: blue">“What fresh hell is this…”</span>she grumbles.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>