[Like she needed to be warned. He might as well wear a bullseye on his back, because he would never exit out of Carolina's crosshairs. She did wish that she had her armour on, even if she tried not to let that on. Rather, she worked the cloth over another smudge, buffing it out, as if a conversation with him wasn't anything too relevant or worthwhile.

It was the slightest of pauses at his warning, cocking an eyebrow. But he was quick. One moment there, and the next moving. Her own hand reached for her knife, yet she didn't strike. Once, maybe. Acting before thinking. Stubborn. Torn. Bullheaded. Paranoid... She had settled, even if retirement was not something that she was easily adjusting to, but she was with her friends, her family, and that alone meant she would try.

Her eyes narrowed, tension through her body. Words. All it was were words. Carolina didn't trust his actions or his words, but she also wasn't going to go insane and just start killing. Not anymore. Revenge hadn't gotten her anywhere.]

You and your right - left?- hand can do whatever the hell you want. You start something, I'll be there to finish it. Otherwise I don't give a shit what you do or what hole you die in again. Comprende?