Alexa's spear drops from nerveless hands, and she turns to Redana with shock writ large across her face.

"That is truly how you see me?"

There's shock on that large, rigid face, but the greater emotion still is sadness--an ancient weariness, writ across every line.

"You think me a rogue killing machine, flawed, faulty. Mad with age, a threat in waiting."

The spear flashes to her hands, and for a moment every muscle tenses to hurl it--at the crabs, perhaps, or simply away? Arms drawn back, grip tight, poised to throw--

And she sighs, lowers the spear, and tosses it on the ground. Winces, scrabbles, picks it up, and leans it gingerly against the wall.

But when she walks to the bit of errant debris, steps heavy, and sits arms wrapped around her knees, she does so facing away from the spear.

"Perhaps you are right." It comes out too quietly for it to be just her arms muffling it. "Maybe I [i]am[/i] just an old machine, built for one purpose, whose time is past and is yet too stupid to see it."

One of the arms not locked around her knees snakes out and, after a bit of hesitation, pats the debris next to her.