Fox looked over to the newcomer, an oddity in the tunnels. Just like Jeiyce she seemed not to be Russian but in fact was a foreigner just like the American next to her. The newcomer also seemed to not want attention, something that Dominika could actually respect so rather than draw attention to her or be overt in her greeting she simply nodded when the woman asked about the tunnel-run as she called it. The pale woman can’t help but oogle the revolver however, Dominika had always lovedher guns and that pre-war beauty was no exception.  Of course her thoughts were interrupted by an interjection fron Jeiyce, her features solidifying into a little smirk as he accosted her about being where the bullets were.<br/><b><i><span style="color: blue">“Of course. I cannot let you have all the bullets, Zhopa.”</span></i></b>Her face remained neutral afterward but there was a slight teasing tone in her voice and it’d had been clear the two at least had some sort of history together though it was entirely ambiguous as to what exactly. Her attention of course fled from him and turned towards the commissioner as he began to speak and read off everyone’s nick names from a file he’d pulled out of the locker. Immediately the woman began to bristle at such a thing. Was this a trap?<br/><br/>Dominka’s chair scraped against the ground slightly and her  fingers curled around the handguard of her air rifle, wondering just how many bearings she could put In the commissioner before she finally ended up on the wrong end of a gun but that moment never came because with his next breath he announced that they’d be forgiven whatever ‘transgressions’ they’d committed against people of the metro, even if most of them were , in her mind, simple fabrications.<b><i><span style="color: blue"> “Bratchnie!”</span></i></b>Her voice rose in anger yet still remained quite soft as she regarded the man. It was one thing to pardon someone but to drag it out in the open and then flaunt it? He was as worthless as the cops were pre-war to her at this point.<b><i><span style="color: blue"> “My crimes were invalid as soon as the bombs fell.”</span></i></b>The woman crosses her arms and remains quiet afterward, watching the man speak with a cool fire burning in her eyes.<br/><br/>By the time he’d finished Dominika looked considerably more clam, back to her nearly placid state but she was still far from alright about all of this.<b><i><span style="color: blue">“ You are lucky you offer so much.”</span></i></b>Her index finger jabs in the air towards him as she uncrosses her arms and without so much as waiting for anyone else stands up and starts to pillage the lockers. Three more new filters go into her  satchel as well as some clean and surprisingly well minted steel ball bearings for her rifle. Tapping the tubes the ammunition came in against her thigh the woman looked pleased before turning her attention to the firearms and shaking her head. It doesn’t stop her from taking a shotgun however , running her hand over the weapons wooden stock. It was a duplet, a makeshit double barrel model common to the metro but it was still a fine weapon, especially if both barrels were fired at once. A pocket full of shells is her next taking, the woman patting the pocket near her right breast when she was all done, shotgun resting on her shoulder and tihar on its sling.<b><i><span style="color: blue"> “ So what exactly are the risks? Surface exposure? Bandits? Overimportant Commissars?” </span></i></b>The last question was quite clearly intended as a slight , her tone somewhat caustic.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>