Getting the job done was indeed important, Ty would concede. He tended to be a guy who thought that the end justified the means in most cases. He snorted at the thought of wearing an apron to blow up zombie canines. "No thanks, I'll just stay dirty," he said. Especially if it was one of those stupid 'Kiss the Cook' aprons or something with flowers on it.
"Yeah, I guess so," Ty replied when she said it had been a fair statement. He had to remember that he was fairly new around here still; he knew that he was relatively harmless to anyone or anything that wasn't zombiefied, but other people might not. His sometimes gruff exterior might make any rumors about his reputation easier to believe, too. He wasn't the leader at this safehouse, just another resident. "I try to leave people with their brains intact." He smiled back at her, not wanting to be taken as being overly defensive.
The dogs should start to thin out soon. At least, Ty hoped they would. He hadn't had a lot of practice using his ability yet, and he didn't know how it would hold up under an extended time period. Boom, and another one bit the dust, then another. A CSI unit would have a field day with him right now given all the blood splatter on his person.
"I'm not sure yet," Ty said when she asked if there were any side effects. "I really haven't used it that much. This is the longest amount of time I've spent with it thus far." Now that he thought of it, though, he was starting to feel a little spent, vaguely headachy. One of the last dogs came toward him, he instinctively tried to send out whatever psi-type power had developed in his head... and nothing.
"Well, shit," he mumbled, quickly drawing his gun and shooting the dog. "I guess we got our answer. I don't think it's workin' anymore."