But Why is the Pesto Gone?

Pesto did a fine job of keeping her scowl upon Sparrow all the way up until she suggested that the exhaustion was all a lie so Sparrow would carry her. Her jaw fell open in protest and she spluttered out something unintelligible, a warm blush creeping up her cheeks. Damnit that was not the appearance to put out to the other raidsman - a damsel? Pesto was never going to get a promotion. The gears within her head continued to turn as she tried to think of a suitable retort, something cool and relaxed and witty preferably, seeing as that seemed to be the way Jupiter made himself look confident and infallible.

The approach of Asvor screeched her train of thought to a halt. Her head whipped between Sparrow and the healer. "I'm not - we're not - no!" She stammered, dragging herself to her feet so she could properly defend the notion. The spike of shock and adrenaline kept her on her feet even through the surge of pain that followed. Pestilence's reputation in Fireside was going to dive and dive hard, and what would Alarr think if he heard such whispers? Her paw lifted and hung in the air pointing towards her fellow raidsman, gesturing small circles as she struggled to put to words what had happened. "I was attacked, Sparrow just was trying to help get home for healing." She looked to Sparrow again, begging her to clarify the situation to their pack mate.