She takes an extra half a second to look into Kirk's face, and what she sees there is anything but unfamiliar. Everything out here hurts. The world exists to be fought, in Furiosa's mind. Survival has to be dragged out from between the teeth of despair, and the fight wears on you after a while.

Happens to everyone. Sometimes it hits the best people hardest.

She circles around the table obligingly and puts her right hand on his shoulder, leaning over to look at the notes and the map. Offering any kind of verbal reassurance, she assumes, would insult or irritate him. (It would if it were her.) But she's here.

"Piece of cake, then," she says mildly, voice tinged with sarcastic cheer. "They won't know what hit 'em."