You think I ain't angry? If you'd seen the half of the day I've had...

[She snorts, her lips pursing, and takes a step closer to him, looking up at him with a gleam of something sharper and hotter than mere irritation. It's not just the imprisonment, after all, or his yelling: there's a whole life and death of fury boiling up behind her red-rimmed grey eyes.]

Being angry don't give you the right to be a fucking fool. And being innocent never saved a woman or a child- [-oh, gods, it never saved my child-] -and it ain't gonna save us now.

As for the rest, why should I care what they think? I know what I want. And I know I'm better able to get it if they ain't watching.

What is it you're planning to do when they come? Hit them with your sandal, too?