She practically ran into back door, wincing as the gun went off. That was new. Probably. The old Raven wouldn't be afraid of some gun fire. But this Raven...she was working off muscle memory. Fractured memories that felt like they belonged to someone else.
Mr. Goat Man had cut off her escape; she was corned like some kind of animal. And cornered animals tended to lash out. She lifted her hands to buy time, slow...non-threatening, but eyes wide and sharp.
"...Please...I don't know what you want- just- please-"