Jolie swallows at the idea of being "disposed of". She's just a kid. She knows how mortal she is. At one point, she'd been quietly resigned to it, but that was then. Now she's angry, and she refuses to give into fear. "So they do probably still want us for something. If they haven't gotten rid of us and can't send us back." She tries rubbing dirt and rust flakes off her hands, making a face. "I'm Jolie. By the way."