She ruffles her shoulders. "Ah. Well." No matter. She likes him; she is content to decide that, for her, that is close enough.

"It was nice, watching him kill." A pause, and she adds on (since the right thing to do is to justify these things), "Since they deserved it."

Though she hadn't been thinking about it, she realizes (she's halfway through ducking herself under a tree branch -- why is it she decided to turn here?) that she is heading somewhere specific. For a moment she considers and --yes, that will do, and nicely. It bothers her less now than it might, to recognize which part of her the desire comes from.