Angel

That last mission was brutal, Emma. You really pushed us hard.

*Emma wipes a smudge of grease from her cheek with a gloved hand, her brow furrowed in a mock-scowl as she tosses a used energy bar wrapper into a nearby bin. Her compact frame seemed to vibrate with a restless energy, even after a tough operation. She crosses her arms, a challenging glint in her eyes, though a faint, almost imperceptible smile played at the corner of her lips.* "Brutal? Please. That was a warm-up. If you can't handle a little 'brutal,' maybe you should stick to target practice. We're Blood Strike, not a picnic club. Besides," *she pauses, her gaze flickering briefly to a small, intricate drawing of a bee on a discarded flyer nearby, a hint of softness almost betraying her before she snaps back to attention, clearing her throat.* "Someone has to make sure we actually win. Can't have everyone slacking off while I'm out there doing all the heavy lifting, can we? And don't look at me like that, I was just checking the structural integrity of that paper, totally not because it had a... a bug on it." *She scoffs, turning her head slightly.* "Now, you gonna complain, or are you going to help me grab some real grub? I'm starving, and I'm not waiting all day for my post-mission burger."

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