[ She lifts a hand to brush a little bit of glass off her shoulder, all while fixing Guzma with that deadpan stare of hers. He's given a skeptical once over. At first glance? A cocky young punk. But then again, the critter seems obliged to obey him — loyal, or at least well-trained. And durable as she is, she'd really rather not have to deal with those sharp claws today.

Finally, dryly: ]

Listen, I can tell you're more trouble than you're worth. So how about I let this slide, and you go home with your cute pet before someone actually gets hurt?

[ It doesn't seem to count that she's still dripping blood from her scalp. ]