The molerat's head blew up with a spray of red, it's body skidding and tumbling to a stop before Isaac's feet.  The wastelander looked at the corpse dispassionately for a moment, before thumbing the safety back up on his Taurus and holstering it.  Then he knelt down to grab his things off the floor and resumed reloading the Beretta, sparing a glance up at Zara as she spoke while he did it.

"Hey, don't sweat it.  That was the dumbest shooting lesson in the world.  Besides..." he sharply pushed the magazine back and jerked the slide to load a round, then looked at her properly.  "...pretty sure you hit one," he told her, his eyebrows raised as if daring her to be proud of herself. "Not bad, huh?"

He accompanied her to the den, Beretta in one hand and knife, reverse-grip, in the other.  There might be one or two more defending the nest, but if he could get away with it, he wouldn't waste any more bullets.  The Sheriff was going to shit a brick when they came back so quickly to report the job complete.  Isaac reckoned he would just give directions to the den and then wait around while someone from town went to go and see the evidence that the job was done.  Even so, they'd be back on the road in record time, thanks to the tracking skills of his new buddy, Zara Singh.

[i]Pulling her weight already, who'da thunk it.[/i]

When the coast was clear, he waited on guard while she checked for loot.  "Anything good, emerald eyes?"