For a moment, Christine felt almost pouty. No 'thank you', no nod, not a single indication that the woman appreciated that she had removed her assailant from the equation. In a place where nobody was beyond murder, it was strange how that made her feel both almost guilty and a little miffed. Her term on death row was brief and she spent most of her time before being put in stasis in solitary confinement but she had had enough time to interact with other prisoners to know when somebody wanted to kill for the sake of killing, and the guy she shot had had that look.

Then again, the woman did reach for her hand, she did accept her help and, most surprisingly, she did not ask her to return the gun, at least not yet. And she seemed willing to have Christine come along on their merry way to god-knows-where.

"Fuckface, huh? I like your style!", the other one commented, drawing Christine's attention.
She looked younger, a lot younger than the other but something about her seemed vaguely familiar. What she had mistaken for being unnerved turned out to be a spark of mischief, a rebellious streak that spoke to her, intrigued her, struck the right note with her. [i]Australian...[/i] Somewhere in the depth of her mind, in the area of her university years, she could hear the faint ring of a bell but it was all a little too vague and too much had happened since that overshadowed this time. Maybe she reminded her of herself?
Whatever it was, the Australian's expression was friendly, amused even.

"Yeah, well, I don't think [b]he[/b] does", she nodded towards the corpse, a hint of humour in her voice.
But before this could develop into more than a short exchange, before they could disappear into the woods, before she could even think of anything else, a call for help had them grinding to a halt. The caller was a man, doubled over in pain... or was he? Everything inside her, every ounce of common sense advised against taking anything somebody [i]seemed[/i] to be in a place like this at face value.
And yet the woman with the bruised cheekbone, the one who had just been floored by a random stranger, the very one that knew first-hand - literally - that anybody around here could be dangerous, ran up to him, looked at his wounds and called her companion over so she could treat him.

It was so very, very stupid and careless of her. And, at the same time, so very, very selfless and noble. Finding brutality in a place like this wasn't unexpected but this... it stunned Christine in a way none of the carnage inside could. [i]Who is she?[/i]
As crazy as it was of her to do that, the red-head couldn't help but feel a bit of admiration for... [i]We really need some 'Hi, my name is...' stickers.[/i]

And then, she heard a twig snap. She couldn't tell where it came from exactly, because the forest had been on her right, but she could tell that it was too close for comfort and the younger-looking blonde seemed to be one step ahead of her, her gun trained on a black woman coming into view. She wore the same overall as everybody else and she did something very smart, considering the guns: Her entire body language aimed to convey that she was not looking for a fight. Whether that was true or not was another question entirely - there was something in her look, in the way she carried herself. It reminded Christine of an animal that had been beaten one too many times and was ready to bite as soon as somebody posed a threat to it.

"You guys friendly?"

"Do we look friendly to you?", the rebellious one replied. It wasn't hostile but maybe not the right tone.

"Not always", Christine said. She was sure that the woman had seen the dead guy; she had come very close before giving herself away. "But I can be, if you don't do anything stupid like attack somebody." [i]If you do, I will not hesitate.[/i] There was no need to speak it out. The corpse said it in a way words never could. "Keep your distance and we'll get along just fine."

And then, of course, another one joined them - a pale blonde guy who was the exact opposite of everybody and everything she had seen so far: He looked like a pedestrian that had just stumbled into a prison block.

[i]Why the hell are so many people coming this wa-?[/i]
That was when it dawned on her. It was quite obvious, after all: The gunshot. Every normal person in every normal situation would get as far away from it as possible. But this wasn't a normal situation and these weren't normal people. A gun was a more comfortable, more refined way to kill and, compared to the number of pipes and sheet metal shards lying around, one that was in short supply on the Apox, unless somebody found an armory of sorts. It was stupid of her to shoot but she didn't think it all the way through. Who could have, in a situation like this?

"Umm... Could I... Could I be of any help?", he asked awkwardly.

"Maybe you can help her", she gestured towards the blonde and her patient. "You know, speed things up so we can get out of here."

Then she met the rebel's eyes again. The girl reminded her of her [i]Gaia[/i] companions. Her best friends among them died in that convention center but they had all started out as people with a spark like that and, if she had to rely on somebody, based on nothing but a gut feeling, it would have to be her. 

"I'll keep an eye on this side." This side meant the one towards the doctor, where her almost useless right ear was covered by a solid wall of plate metal and she had no blind spots. Other than the opposite direction, of course. "Take the other one, will ya?" 
If she decided to turn around and shoot her from behind, there was nothing she could do. She had to rely an awful lot, considering she had only met her a few minutes ago. But if not even the people who seemed the least threatening and downright mad in this place were remotely trustworthy, she was probably done for anyway. Gambling was never her thing but sometimes, you didn't have a choice in the matter.

"Oh, and... The name's Christine, by the way." Everybody around could hear her name but she softened her voice for her next, considerably darker remark, not wanting to unsettle the black woman more than necessary. "Watching somebody blow somebody's brains out puts them on a first name basis, right?"