There was a cruel catharsis about watching the newly-named 'Aisha' bash the Cautus over the head, and Aoife found herself trapped somewhere between a grimace, and a smile that bared a few too many teeth to be innocent. A piece of her truly empathized with the Sargonians; the predatory grasping of Victorian hands was something a native of Tara knew all too well, after all, and she'd enjoyed watching that baton smack more than she'd let on.

The moment passed, and she realized that the direction her thoughts had plunged was unbecoming of anybody, let alone a Rhodes Island operator. Yes, Victorians had burned her family home to the ground and killed her family. But that wasn't an excuse. She needed to be better.

...Ah. Aisha was staring at her. Possibly because [i]she[/i] was staring at [i]Aisha.[/i] She had the grace to look embarrassed as she averted her eyes, then coughed self-consciously. Which she then regretted immediately, as she felt a bolt of pain to her chest, tasted something odd, and realized that her embarrassed cough had in fact just turned into her coughing up a small amount of blood.

Well. Talk about embarrassing. Her eyes remained averted, head inclined in respect, as she murmured with a soft, flat voice, "[color=paleturquoise]Do so. I would like to talk to him more. When you contact us,[/color]" She lifted her head again, regaining eye contact for just long enough to finish the thought as she pressed her hand to her chest by way of introduction, "[color=paleturquoise]Ash Girl.[/color]"

She might've spoken more, and she rather wanted to push harder. But this was a woman, she thought, who would only make their life more difficult if they tried to bypass her. Best to let her handle this for the moment.

And besides, by this point she was quite thoroughly ready to be done with talking. 

And so she glanced at Minimalist and Balthasar, then stepped back behind them, giving one more nod to Aisha. Not fair that only she got to talk, after all.