Shooting a disgusted look up at him, she actually felt relieved, despite the painfully prickling point of heat that was the cigarette hovering over her skin. Something to remember them until next time - that meant there was a chance she'd be getting out of this confusing mess, and alive. It almost made her not care that her lace-edged, dark blue bra cradling her breasts was exposed to the camera, and to the gang of assholes surrounding her.<br/><br/>As she looked up at the one who called himself Hound, leaning so close over her, she found that she couldn't quite look away; there was something about him that captured her attention, held it on him fixed; a look almost of longing, unconsciously, crept into her irritable expression and changed it from an attempt at fierceness to being sadly pretty.