She matches the wryness in the smile with one of her own, exhaling with a ghost of low sound in it--not quite a self-directed laugh, but close, bordering on it. "That'll get you further than somebody might think, out here."

She tucks one knee up, chin resting on top of it. It's a gamine behavior, absent-minded. Her arm hurts, she thinks, and her fingers twitch just slightly as she refrains from pressing on the injection site. They told her that would just make that worse. It's a dangerous game she's playing, since she doesn't know how her physiology will always react--she tells herself she can do these things because she's not really one thing or another. She's got so many of the strengths, so few of the weaknesses of both humans and vampires alike, although holy symbols when wielded by a true believer are never going to be her favorite thing.

Thus the baphomet.

"Nuala doesn't really go in for the battlefield scene, either; you've probably noticed." It's better, she thinks, to disperse their members that way. "Y'all get to just throw me at things and wait to see what happens."

She enjoys it, though; it's said with a hint of self-awareness, like she knows it's not normal to enjoy it, but she can't quite bring herself to care.