Her brow furrows for half a second at his words, and then her eyes go wide, and her hands are everywhere on her person.

Her pants pockets, her hips, her shirt, for the one thing that never left her body. Never. And No. No. No. She's never lost it. She was never without it, unless she was naked. Not her Dad's knife. Not once. Not in all these times. Not since Raven, and Raven wasn't even losing it. She'd chunked it at him, meaning to kill him, but she'd gotten it back.

"Fucking fuckers," Spits out of her mouth, hard as nails, missing his question entirely in her own expulsion, and she's looking in all the directions suddenly, again. For someone. Anyone. The bastards who brought her here. Who somehow took her stuff. Her clothes. When she swinging her own bag down, even though he hadn't seemed to have found anything he wanted.