It's not quiet, but it's even. Tempered steel underneath the outer trappings of a wide-eyed, round-faced girl. It's another reflection of the strength it takes to stand in that kitchen, day after day after day, in the boring drudgery of food preparation. So many hunters, and Kate could join them. She's got, she's willing to bet, as good an aim as anyone else here. She made her livelihood with her gun, and never killed anyone. Never had a bullet go off into the crowd or behind stage. But too many hunters, not enough cooks, so she stays in the kitchen.
It's not a whipcrack of a word, her word, but Kate can project over livestock and crowds, while her torso is encased in boning and steel. Here and now? It's easy.
"The bow, yes. I see your point, Mr Frank," she says. "And after planting, yes, we need to make more. Harpoon, same. But if we're to use these for the community, then...
We need to trust each other a bit. If we store them communally, we don't have to run around tryin' to find it if someone's injured or needs it. It doesn't turn into these things been given as rewards.
I'm injured. Any of us could be, or worse. I haven't had anything like what happened to Captain Jones happen to me. But I know a lifetime of hunger and bein' played with. And I know that the best way for us to survive is to work together.
Which means, other people need training in the bow. In the harpoon. Or others where who know how to shoot-" She looks at Miss Margaery, at others who may or may not have spoken.
"And honestly and frankly, you can use slingshots to take down game, too. Why not store all these things together? Practice with them. Return them after use, so we all know where they are in case anythin' happens. I think after a few days of being here, people will get the story that our situation is precarious soon enough."
Hunger does that, after all. And she's only providing the minimum - no, less - than what she's comfortable with to try and keep people alive.
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It's not quiet, but it's even. Tempered steel underneath the outer trappings of a wide-eyed, round-faced girl. It's another reflection of the strength it takes to stand in that kitchen, day after day after day, in the boring drudgery of food preparation. So many hunters, and Kate could join them. She's got, she's willing to bet, as good an aim as anyone else here. She made her livelihood with her gun, and never killed anyone. Never had a bullet go off into the crowd or behind stage. But too many hunters, not enough cooks, so she stays in the kitchen.
It's not a whipcrack of a word, her word, but Kate can project over livestock and crowds, while her torso is encased in boning and steel. Here and now? It's easy.
"The bow, yes. I see your point, Mr Frank," she says. "And after planting, yes, we need to make more. Harpoon, same. But if we're to use these for the community, then...
We need to trust each other a bit. If we store them communally, we don't have to run around tryin' to find it if someone's injured or needs it. It doesn't turn into these things been given as rewards.
I'm injured. Any of us could be, or worse. I haven't had anything like what happened to Captain Jones happen to me. But I know a lifetime of hunger and bein' played with. And I know that the best way for us to survive is to work together.
Which means, other people need training in the bow. In the harpoon. Or others where who know how to shoot-" She looks at Miss Margaery, at others who may or may not have spoken.
"And honestly and frankly, you can use slingshots to take down game, too. Why not store all these things together? Practice with them. Return them after use, so we all know where they are in case anythin' happens. I think after a few days of being here, people will get the story that our situation is precarious soon enough."
Hunger does that, after all. And she's only providing the minimum - no, less - than what she's comfortable with to try and keep people alive.
"Dividin' it all up makes it feel like loot."