"I-I don't know," she muttered and pressed her face against his chest plate. The chill of it was strangely comforting. She struggled to slow her breathing, to calm herself. This was insane. It was more horrifying, somehow, than killing living people was. Maybe because when you killed them, they stayed dead. Perhaps it was horrifying because they had been people. This was death, up close and in a way she'd never been forced to examine it before. She could cause it but apparently she couldn't face it.
"Can't sleep anyway," she added and stepped away from him. "I should probably get another gun or bullets for that one or. Or something." She had to continue, she told herself. She was an Avenger and these things weren't really people and someone had to do it.