Colette nearly tumbled backward as one of her companions leapt over the table in an obvious bid to keep her out of battle. Once she realized she was just being protected - and that two of the others were handily dispatching the clickers - she had to fight back the urge to smile. She lowered her knife and slightly bowed her head to signal her compliance with the older woman's orders. 

[i]Stay back and let the others do the fighting? Fine by me.[/i]

Of course, she didn't voice that self-satisfied thought, but instead took a small step backwards and looked away as if embarrassed. In reality, she was delighted. Her group was comprised of people who could fight, including a woman who, despite looking stern, perhaps had some sort of protective streak. These people were perfect - if her last group was an indicator, they would eat her act of naivety right up and let her play a less risky role. 

Once the clickers were dead, she mumbled, "Sorry," then shuffled back to her backpack and slid the knife inside. Once settled in the beanbag chair again, she resumed her sewing. She bit her lip as she worked. Worry, she figured, was appropriate in situations like this, so just this once, it was fine to let a hint of her true feelings show.