Angry as she was, and oh boy, was she furious, the notion of such a cold blooded murder was abhorrent, the disgust on her face immediate. Even if some part of her--wounded and bleeding, howling with a grief she hasn't been able to properly feel, a mourning denied and misplaced--thought he would deserve it, that wasn't who she was. "Don't stand there and pretend like you know me," she replied darkly, shaking out her hand again. "You don't know the first thing. Not about me, not about the people you think you're saving."

She shook her head, her expression caught somewhere at the intersection between hurt, disgust, and pity. "I'm sorry you're so bloody broken that you can't look at any of us and see a life worth living, or a world worth fighting for. Don't, just," she held up her hand, the one not currently throbbing like a broken tooth, before he could formulate his no doubt poetically scathing reply about what a simple stupid chile she was. "Just don't." Rook, at least, had no problem walking away--parallel rather than turning her back on him entirely, because she wasn't a complete fool, and didn't believe for a moment that just because he was stripped of magic meant that he was toothless. She'd just proven herself that wasn't the case. Side stepping more light walkers, until she disappeared into a crowd. Pointless to stand there exchanging barbs all evening.

She had people to warn.