"So, not that, then. Blood?" She makes a face. That seems unlikely, too. There are a lot of species here and they don't all have the same kind of blood. "...they smelled like chemicals, and their eyes glowed. Maybe they're not entirely organic, themselves."

There's no way to know that without catching and dissecting one, though, and that's something Furiosa would prefer to have no part of. Killing is fine. She'll stand aside if someone wants to chop up a corpse. Torture is something she actively tries to avoid. It reminds her too much of the Organic Mechanic.

Furiosa gives the mini-armory an envious look. It's not something she's considered before; she comes here to trade and rarely meets anything more dangerous than she is (until now), and maybe she got a little too trusting. She always has knives and a couple handguns, but minimal ammunition. It hasn't served her well this time.

Or maybe it has; she's still alive, after all.

"I was just bringing some extra supplies in--flour and water--and my portal froze over. If my people back home are suffering like this and I find out come the thaw, there will be Hell to pay."

"But there's nothing to be done about that now. I prefer semi-auto. I hate to waste ammunition. Force of habit. But I can work with whatever you give me. Probably burst-fire would be easy enough to adapt to."