Rez's drawled chuckle is thirty-one flavors of nasty. "Hell. Y'should thank me. Most days I<em>butcher</em>defenseless people.<em>Slow</em>." This gets a low rumble of laughter from the surrounding bikers. Apparently that passes for humor in this crowd. Unsurprising, since that's exactly the sort of entertainment Warner interrupted. "An' I don' call m'self a damned thing but 'me'." Her grin is strained, a death's head rictus. "I don' fight people. I kill'm. Other people c'n call me what they like...at their peril. Now take y'r fuckin' life and go, before I decide it ain't that entertainin' t'watch you walk."<br/><br/>A half-dozen weapons come up when Warner shoves Ogre, but Rez holds up a hand in disgust and shakes her head. "Naw, let'm go. Fr'now. Reasons." She breaks open her shotgun and replaces the one fired shell, then glances at Tack and comments more than loudly enough for Warner to hear, "If he ain't over a hill in fifteen minutes, y'can blow'is arms off."<br/><br/>The rest of the bikers return to their entertainment, now that the Quarantine is effectively out of the picture. Rez whistles Cat over. "Get Buttercup's cutlery collection under control an' patch'im, an' see what y'can do for Newt. Th'kid did good. Tell'm that scar gonna make all t'other boys'n'girlz swoon. He'll work out."<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Once Warner is well gone, Rez glances back over to Amanuel. "Y'been gettin' everythin' ready to roll, I figure." She hooks a thumb at the MRAP. "Also figure yer savvy enough to know that ain't his to give t'you. Stopped bein' his 'bout th' time he stepped out of it an' got in th'fuckin' way an' in m'face."<br/><br/>Rez smiles almost beatifically at Amanuel.<br/><br/>"...Buuuuut it might end up bein' yers anyway. Wanna talk t'Uncle Marco 'bout it. Whoever gets it, gets a fuckin' trouble magnet they're gonna haveta guard. You c'n keep it runnin', Marco's got th'walls t'keep it protected. Biddin'<em>starts</em>with all my people's bikes gettin' overhauled completely, top t'bottom, fixed up and tuned 'til they purr. But before we get that far, that big beautiful gun comes off and goes on a sidecar." She glances around, thoughtful. Without some certainty as to who'd be best at using the HMG, it came down to who had the most reliable suspension. "Rhino, hell, you can probably carry the damn thing if you bog down." She gestures at a scarred woman who is almost Buttercup's size. The pair of them would make a cute couple, but they're both far too competitive when it comes to size and muscle, and since their favorite forms of competition involve getting drunk and breaking things it's probably a good thing they aren't close.<br/><br/>"Th'gun ain't on auction, an' movin' it shouldn't take a minute. And of course there's that little matter of gettin' th' beast over here back t'Marco's along with everythin' else."