Booker had ignored the hint of sarcasm in her voice. Not because he could hear the fear behind it, but because he needed to focus on the task ahead. He didn't like to kill but this was something that was necessary. He could almost hear his maker laughing in his head, laughing at him for being a weakling. For enjoying the fight. For not wanting to kill but doing it anyway. He could hear it as he tore through the wall of muscle cutting them off from real escape.
As she flinched, he couldn't help but sigh slightly. He could understand it, she had thought for a moment that he would have lost and these were the enemies coming for her. How they would be so gentle, he didn't know, but there was the panic that tainted the whole situation. He probably would have reacted the same way. He would have felt down his chest to make sure it was real, would have slid his arms around to hold on more tightly. Part of him felt pride that she would find instant comfort in the fact that he was there. Her heart was racing and it beat in his ears as he navigated away from the dead end, his mind racing faster as he tried to decide what to do. He was supposed to know. It was almost like he was a parent, protecting his child. He was her guardian now in a way he hadn't been before.
Trent wasn't worried about the blood, just getting further away. Once the next round of hunters found their friends, the bloodlust for the pair would be doubled. They would come after them harder. If only there was a way to go that wasn't guarded by them... wait. Wait. That was it. "I know what to do." Starting to run again, he held onto her tightly, purpose in his step as he started in a different direction.