She doesn't follow him up, on her knees in the viscera, watching him stand instead - it's like taking sobering breaths of air. Her mind numbed to all else, as she feels the blacksight dim from her vision. Blinking out a haze like she was drunk or dazed or both. The air full and festering, rot and damp that filled this place.

The only comfort, the only thing that made this - this thing that she was worth it, was watching his motions, and once she has that, her head bows. Exhaustion, perhaps, the aftershocks of her worry, thick as the blood. Letting it slip away from her. He was safe, he was fine, nothing had bitten him, he would not turn - ( whether she means lycan, vampire or walker, she cannot tell it apart, it is one horror that has bleed into another into another as the years have gone by ).

"Deserve has nothing to do with it." Her fingers sit on her legs, loosely curled up - doesn't know how to let go of her blades, her weapons. She knows nothing else, but this, not anymore. "What ... what makes you so sure I even can?"