patient study

He's stiff, rigid. Iscariot doesn't allow emotion to well up within her, for fear which it might be. For now, she remained stoic. For as much as be bristled, as much as the man stared her down, she wouldn't crumble. Not yet. "I don't doubt you, or them." The words are careful, ears flattening against her skull. An anxious lick of her lips, feeling the man's gaze as it bore down.

"Asking for help would have been selfish, I wasn't going to pull you or anyone else away from pack business for personal bullshit. Your energy is better spent on important things." Even if the personal bullshit had nearly killed her in the process. Iscariot is still stiff, still sore. It's more than physical, but she wouldn't begin to explore that. There's no exploring that, she knows better than to open Pandora's box.

"There is no more personal bullshit. I'm back to being a weapon of the state." A weapon and nothing more. Too many thoughts in her head, the taste of blood still on her lips if she thinks about it hard enough. Fidgeting with the vertebrae on her bracelet, a slim comfort for the girl. Too much energy bubbling beneath the surface, though she's still carefully watching Sephiran. Looking up at the man, anxiety creeping in around the edges.

"Iscariot"