Kalinda glanced away, unable to find the words she wanted to say. She hung her head, looking at her hands, which were ash covered, blood stained and she didn't want to think about what else. She suddenly flonched as if going to block a blow, but stopped herself. This was why she had chosen a desk over the field. Some would say PTSD. Kalinda said it was her own body telling her she had been too cocky, and too ready to make the job go without a hitch. Twin pains bloomed on her neck and head, almost as vivid as the day she had almost died. She looked to Fury with a glare. 

"I promised to come back after you gave me time to sort myself out after what happened. But you never did. You've had me watched. Before I do anything else, I have to go get my damned dog." There would be no time for the training she had wanted to put her pup through, but she could still have him. She would make sure of that. She was not giving up the thing she had always wanted as a kid. The one thing she had never asked for, because she had known her mother would refuse. Her voice was strained, tired and she couldn't hide the pain in it.

"I'm tired of trying to be normal. But I'm also tired of being treated like I'm disposible. You never tell us everything. Shield was once a beacon of hope, and perhaps it still is. But not to its agents. I'll go back to the field, but no more will i take orders from you, Fury. now o have to get my dog. I have to getting supplies and I have to deal with sensitive information on my computers and other devices. And I have to make it seem like Lily Johnson never existed" that would take her hours, most of the night. It would give her time to think, and time to figure things out. 

She looked to the others "I have food. I have first aid supplies. I have clean, hot water, and comfortably furniture. I have computers, and I have room what you do with that information is up to you" she turned, starting down the street, a slight shake to her step. It was a long walk back to the little house she had lived in.