To the Aeldari, a little bit of heavy fire wasn't really too much to concern herself with. She had escaped worst situations without losing a hair on her head; this was nothing unusual. Maybe to the Mon'Keighs it was something to worry themselves over, but she had hope, and when hope didn't work, she had the fact that she was superior to the rest of the crew instead. When the Rogue Trader asked his question, she shook her head. "Nae, despite the similarities t'ween the weaponry it carries and that of my Commorite kin, it's nae wraithbone and I dinnae see any Aeldari markings on it." Her hair danced about her head with every movement she made; a mesmerising display that distracted from her face.

"Could be scavenged Aeldari technology. Or they nicked it from us. Either wae, nae to do with my peoples any more. Tha' being said, might be worthwhile for me to get my armour on, jus' in case we end up with some boarding actions goin' on." With a brief nod towards the owner of the vessel she would leave the bridge, heading towards where she bunked and where her armour was held. She had her weaponry on her at all times; the fusion pistol and power sabre snugly fit to her thighs, but alas, a fetching double breasted jacket and her tight fitted trousers did not deflect shuriken fire. 

A few moments later and she would emerge once more; although Biel-Tan's colours were white and green, the mesh armour wasn't hers, and she was fairly sure the corsair it came from had hailed from Saim-Hann with its deep crimson colour. The flecks of gold were certainly not standard though, and the felarch helmet she held underneath her arm was the same red as the armour; not the white that standardised guardian armour would be. 

Moving to the vox-channel that linked her to Rudyard, the smugness in her voice was palpable. "Are there any folks, me exceptin', who'll be needed if we take the fight t'them? Or, if they take the fight t'us."