The blonde, with a perverse smile drawn across her face and her eyes still burning with an energy that didn't seem normal, grabbed one of the assassins without any care. She threw him over her shoulder as if he barely weighed anything and carried him out of the room.
The door closed behind her with a dull thud, and the room was once again dominated by Kanary's heavy breathing, the smell of blood, and the uncomfortable silence of those still there, far too tense to relax.
Veronica didn't understand anything. She simply remained silent beside the blue-haired girl. "(That lunatic is strange… I hope she knows what she's doing… At least you're here, so I guess she does.)"
The cat girl leaned slightly over the bed and studied her friend's pale face. Kanary was still unconscious, her forehead damp and her chest rising and falling awkwardly, but at least she was still breathing, and that was enough to hold onto.
